The Good Son
by Mangerang
Summary: Success earns you many things, not the least of which being enemies. Abducted before the eyes of thousands, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers are forced to endure the tortures of a madman, and learn the hard way that not all wounds heal. Indirect Stony. VIOLENCE. GRAPHIC TORTURE.
1. Chapter 1: The Expo

**Zafona's Notes:**

**Okay hello everyone! This is a story that I am writing with my co-author Touta Matsuda. It was originally from Matsu's head but I obviously added my own style into it so I hope you all enjoy it ;)**

_**WARNINGS:**_

**Major warnings here guys. This story will have a small amount of slash in it, possibly but that is not why this story is rated M. There will be explicit scenes of torture (and I mean REALLY nasty because matsu loves that kind of thing). I am warning you now, okay? It is graphic. Very graphic and some of you (you know who you are) I know for a fact can NOT handle this kind of thing.**

**The entire story is like this, okay? It is not a happy-fall-in-love story. It is ugly. Very ugly and gruesome and I can't believe half the things I read. This story is meant for the sick twisted minds that like to see these characters torments and put through hell. Just remember you don't have to read it if you don't like. I encourage you not to read if you don't like it. I am warning you ahead of time because adding this at the top of each chapter is excessive. The entire story, guys. Aside from the bits of fluff I might add for a reprieve, it is all gory and traumatizing.**

**Matsu's Notes:**

**I deserved more credit than that. And Zaf's not joking about the excessive nature of gore. This fic is rated M for gratuitous violence and explicit torture. It was my intention to write something with an M rating that didn't derive it from SLASH.**

* * *

Tony grinned at the crowd's tumultuous roar – a near deafening cheer that had erupted as the opening ceremony for this year's Stark Expo commenced. Tony considered these to be his glory days –not that he had ever considered his time before the Avengers –before Iron Man –to have been any less glorious at the time, but _this_ was truly stupendous. All of the lighting, special effects, music, jumbo trons... all powered by Stark Technology, more specifically the newest prototype of the arc reactor. And if that alone wasn't his pride and joy Tony couldn't help but feel the slightest tinglings of satisfaction that this year he actually had _friends_ to share it all with, and what an odd thought was that? Somewhere in that roiling sea of people stood Steve Rogers, the resident captain and all-round great guy that he was, probably scared out of his wits by the sheer size of the Expo and manic state of the crowd. Elsewhere would be Dr. Bruce Banner, though Tony highly doubted he was in the crowd. It was more likely that Banner was backstage, or watching from some greater distance. Although Tony did have to admit that there would be a certain dosage of humour in seeing a few dozen screaming fans get tossed into the sky like the detonation of a giant green stick of dynamite.

Tony sauntered on stage (he couldn't have two Iron Man entrances in a row, that'd just be repetitive), and the cheering reached its peak along with the climax of Tony's hand-selected soundtrack. He wore a fine suit that walked the line between fashion and business, with just a hint of formal –probably Italian by Tony's own guess, though he wasn't responsible for most of his public-appearance wardrobe. He stood patiently, hands clasped behind his back as he revelled in the attention and praise of the adoring crowds. Tony couldn't help but wonder if this is what a god felt like, and while that thought may seem audacious to most it was a near daily concern for the billionaire-turned-superhero. He rocked on the balls of his feet to his tip toes and back down for just a moment as the crowd's boisterous roar simmered into a dull tremor at the simple sight of the billionaire's raised hand –yup, definitely developing a god complex.

Tony removed his nearly trademarked sunglasses and pocketed them, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the 2012 Stark Expo!" He raised both arms with a gesture of extravagance, accompanied by the launching of several dozen fireworks from stage level, exploding high above the crowd. He smiled again as the crowd erupted in cheers, publicity had always been good, and it didn't matter so much that he sold weapons or energy as long as there were bright lights and pounding music the crowds would come. Sort of like zombies, if you thought hard enough about it.

* * *

Bright flashing lights everywhere, people even more everywhere, it was a goddamn nightmare. Bruce hadn't wanted to go to the Stark Expo at all but it was Tony's thing and he figured supporting the man was only polite. After all, Tony let him crash in the tower whenever he pleased, let him play with all the nifty and technological things and even ordered rare chemicals for him to experiment with. What's a little Expo?

Well first off 'little' isn't the term that Bruce would use but he did his best not to complain. He had tried to stand where the crowd would, tried to convince himself that he'd end up enjoying it but all he could think of _'What if I lose control?'_ The thought of massacring this event was a startling and upsetting thing so he moved back stage, away from the screaming and cheering, where the loud music was less obnoxious and everyone was busy with something. It was much better than standing in a sweaty mess of writhing bodies. He was a scientist, a man of logic; he failed to see how that was fun for anybody.

Regardless though, Tony seemed to be enjoying it. The guy practically fed entirely on publicity, good or bad. Well, publicity and booze but that was a habit the genius seemed to be kicking. Bruce looked up at the stage from his safety zone and smirked, Tony really knew how to control a crowd.

* * *

Steve apologized for possibly the hundredth time in the last hour for accidentally bumping into someone. It was impossible to keep to his own space here, not that it bothered him but he didn't want to accidentally knock someone over. No one else seemed to mind when they brushed shoulders with the chiselled soldier, often he noticed their eyes dragging over him swiftly and he couldn't tell if they thought they were being subtle and really sucking at it or if they intended to be that forward. Knowing the way the times were in this decade in comparison to the one he remembered, he figured it was probably a purposeful thing.

He finally found a spot that wasn't in too many people's way but close enough that he could get a good look at the show. He'd been to a few Stark Expos before, they were always flashy, always excessively drawn out with flare and they were definitely always a reason to show off. Stark's didn't seem to change, even in the last 70 years.

Steve smiled at the feeling of familiarity, standing in a large cheering crowd all screaming for the most talented man in the world of technology. It was a strong memory for him; the Stark Expo of 1942 was the same place he'd finally been accepted into the war, the place he'd met Dr. Erskine and passed that test. His feeling of warmth from the past quickly washed away as he had to remind himself that everything he knew was gone, that the world was more complex and much colder than it had been in his time. Technology had taken the place of men in all sorts of jobs, and even removed the need for human contact or face to face conversations. And so much of it was so gosh darn confusing.

Yet as much as Steve knew he wouldn't understand half of the invented things, he also knew it was necessary that he be present. A friend of his was putting on a show; it was the right thing to do even if his comfort level was slightly pressured. Though he'd be lying if he said he came without the added push of his friends. Tony and Pepper had urged him to get out more often, experience things a little more fully than he had been. He didn't want to turn down their offer of free admittance to a Stark Expo, he'd enjoyed it in the past so what was the harm in doing it again? Obviously he'd accepted and here he was, smushed in a crowd of half-naked people. Comfort level was definitely in the red.

* * *

As Tony's proceedings went on, showcasing the various themes and events planned for the Expo, there was an undertow of fear in the air. Most were oblivious to the slightest signs of it, but Tony Stark had his enemies. More specifically, Iron Man had enemies, and while the public seemed to love the notion of superheroes among them there would always be those who held their doubts and contempt. There was of course the basic security one would expect of a large scale event, but there were also a surprising number of military personnel on site for a company exposition that had completely moved away from weapons manufacturing.

The security and added protection did little to thwart the best laid plans. The man was dressed in a well tailored suit and busily toying with his hand held device, which one could only assume was a cell phone. There was very little that set him apart from the others in the crowd, save for his evident lack of enthusiasm for the arrogant display of wealth and power, and an air of direction –a sort of goal-oriented behaviour. He looked up from his phone, brown eyes scanning the crowd, then beyond it, setting squarely on Tony's form, strafing confidently across the stage. A grin made its way to the man's lips, twisting over his features before ghosting away.

With his sights elsewhere, the man bumped shoulders with another, a tall, blonde haired male in the crowd. The man dipped his head and tipped his brimmed fedora with a curt, "sorry," before vanishing into the crowd.

"Oh, not at... all..." Steve muttered as the stranger disappeared from sight. "Okay..." he scratched his head but tried not to worry too much about it. Something was suddenly not sitting right with him, it was tough to put his finger on it but that little brush by was somehow unsettling.

Tony's gusto was just ramping up to a climax on stage, "And THAT is why Stark Industries-" Suddenly the audio cut out, along with the lights and everything else running on cable-drawn electricity. Tony made a quick glance right and left, anxiety growing quickly as he felt overly exposed with a glowing bull's-eye in the centre of his chest in a dark arena. The glow was dull beneath the suit but Tony lifted his left hand to cover it unconsciously all the same. His right rose to his ear, checking the comms, "Pepper, what happened?"

The only reply he got in return was white noise, barely audible over the roaring panic of the crowds immersed in darkness. "Fuck," the one syllable was uttered with finality though Tony knew full well that this was only the beginning of something. Just exactly _what_ that something was, he hadn't a clue. He felt a buzzing in his pocket and heard the faint riffs of ACDC before he remembered that the comm device wasn't the only form of communication. _'Well no duh,'_ his overly-sarcastic inner voice chastised him. Tony fished the phone from his pocket, "Shut up."

"What?" Came Pepper's startled reply.

"Not you," Tony quickly assured her.

"Whatever. Tony, are you ok? What happened?" Ever the overly concerned worry wart, her fear for his safety was almost palpable in her tone.

"I was hoping that you could tell me that," Tony shot back, more than a little frustrated that not only was his Expo crashing for the second year in a row, but someone was able to override _his arc reactor_.

"The reactor's down, Tony," Pepper informed him, and he just couldn't help but wonder why she asked him what was up when apparently she knew. Also, he totally called the problem being reactor-related.

"Malfunction?" Tony wasn't sure which he feared more, someone else crashing his tech or the idea that perhaps he had made a _mistake_.

"Definitely sabotage," Pepper replied, her voice no less tense than when their conversation began. "Tony, you might be in danger. Please tell me you're not still standing on that stage."

"Right, because I can see _exactly_ where I'm going-" Tony's eyes caught a glimpse of something bright in the crowd, a light but it was moving too fast to be just a person. "Pepper, did you see that?"

* * *

Bruce blinked a few times in confusion when he realized he could barely see, in fact he couldn't see at all. Part of him figured 'nah, it's just a random power failure' though the rest of him could have bitch slapped the idiocy that was that statement. Tony's arc reactor was the thing power this event, _that_ kind of thing didn't just randomly go out, not without there being a major problem.

With his nerves getting the better of him, Bruce started feeling his way around in the darkness, hoping he'd come across something important before it was too late, though, of course, when did that ever happen?

* * *

"It's time," the man with the fedora smiled again, barely able to contain his excitement. It was risky to come out here in person, he knew, but who would recognize him? Who here even remembered his name? No, he had to see Tony Stark go down in person. He lifted his phone and entered the password into the dialog box on the dim display, striking the 'Enter' key brought all the lights and glamour to a startling, silent halt. He listened for a moment as the silence was broken by screams –someone always screamed, and he honestly didn't know why –nothing had even happened yet. Nearby he heard the reassuring hum of his drone, whirring to life just as its counterpart was, on the opposite side of the arena.

Tony squinted into the darkness in attempts to find that flash of light again. His eyes were adjusting, just not quite as quickly as he would have liked. Whatever it was, it had the same glow as the arc reactor in his chest, a luminous blue. "Probably not a good sign," Tony muttered to himself, decidedly heading for the exit, stage right. He didn't quite make it.

He saw it out of the corner of his eye, the glowing blue approaching at high speeds. There was no time to react before it was on him. Humanoid in shape, Tony could have sworn for just a moment that it was _his_ suit that had just assaulted him.

* * *

Steve's eyes were quickly adjusting to the shift in lighting, a nice addition to the rest of his enhancements. He could see much clearer than everyone else around him which made it easier to avoid the flurry of bodies. That pit in his stomach only tightened and his gaze snapped up toward the stage, someone here didn't like Tony Stark and something much worse was about to happen, he just knew it. From where he stood Tony still looked okay, on his phone and probably trying to talk through what had just happened.

He had to get over there. Steve knew he had to get over there because he could see it all in Tony's shifting stance. The subtle way he went a little bit left and then a little bit right, uncertainty in his posture and just enough fear to be able to mask it easily. Steve knew it. He could clearly make it out even from this distance. Because really, how could he notice it? A few months ago he'd met Pepper outside of a coffee shop, she was on her way inside and he was sitting on the front patio, his face buried in his hands. Or, that's at least all she saw, anyway. He'd been miserable, figuring out the world's new way of functioning was impossible, he'd gotten so fed up with it. She could tell he was having a hard time and offered to help him, if he came by the Tower every once in a while she could explain things. Though it was a nice thought Steve knew just stopping by once a week or so wouldn't help all that much, he needed constant assistance and it drove him insane. She countered with 'move in'. She was convincing because the next thing he knew he had.

In the few months he lived there he'd seen a lot more of Tony Stark and had managed to learn several of his mannerisms, whether the genius would like to admit it or not. And the way he was skittishly looking for an exit, his hand pinned to his chest like a lifeline, he was clearly terrified.

In an attempt to work his way through the frantic crowd a flicker of light caught the Captain's eye, he turned his attention in its direction and spotted a gaze not unlike the Iron Man suit. _'That can't be good.'_ He furrowed his brow and forced himself through the blockade of people, he regretted it a little, hoping he didn't harm any of them in his rush to possibly save their lives. If this thing was like the Iron Man suit then there was a person inside, or so Steve's logic told him anyway, he couldn't know for sure.

"Hey!" he shouted, grabbing the metallic arm, feeling that there was no hollow sensation by the simple touch. This thing was not being piloted by a person, or at least not someone present.

In that split second he realized what the thing was aiming at, the stage, _Tony._ In the next few seconds he'd rounded his gaze back to the stage where he could see another drone, this one easily over-powering the suit-less Iron Man, Tony Stark completely defenceless, helpless against the attack. As the vague sight of his friend being treated like a rag doll settled into his retinas, Steve felt the shift in the drone next to him. "Oh no you don't." He snarled, gripping its arm tighter, bending it and smirking as he heard a snapping sound.

The automated thing reeled on him then, bringing one fist around to smash him aside though Steve easily deflected it, and punched it in the face, not sure where the important parts of a drone were. The robot dropped the outer part of its pinned arm, effectively dropping Steve's deadly grip. The soldier was a bit stunned though clearly a drone would have no issue with losing an arm, it couldn't possibly feel it. Steve ducked another swing at him and reached out to try and knock the thing's head off. His manoeuvre was cut a little short as he had to block the incoming fist again, not realizing that just because his enemy had lost its other arm didn't mean it couldn't still use it. He felt the rim of some kind of gun pressed against his belly and before he could react he felt a strong blast of energy colliding with his abdomen. A pained cry escaped him as he tumbled to the ground, instinctively grabbing for his wounded midsection.

Steve didn't get a chance to lie there for very long, however. He heard the thing's thrusters starting up and knew it was going after Tony. He had to move. With another agonized groan he forced himself to his feet and leapt onto the thing's back just as it took off, rocketing them both after its partner drone and Tony.

Tony's face collided with the polished stage floor for not the first or second, but third time that evening, and he could have sworn he felt his cheek bone crack from the force of it. In his defense, the first face-floor contact of the evening hadn't been dealt by the drone, but instead resulted from an unfortunate trip on a misplaced sound cable during rehearsal. Admittedly, that was a weak-ass defense. All things being equal, this machine (Tony doubted from its jerky movements that it was piloted by any human being that had a sense of_momentum_) didn't want him dead. It was obvious really, especially to someone who regularly pilots humanoid machines, that if this thing had wanted him dead –he would be.

Tony was faintly aware that he was being lifted off the floor, and a persistent ringing in his ears had set in. His vision blurred, and he deduced that he was probably on the verge of unconsciousness. His brow furrowed as sensory data to his brain began to slow while his mind reeled to make sense of it all. As his vision faded to black, he could have sworn he'd seen a second drone.

Bruce had managed to make it to the far part of the stage, his eyes adjusting slowly but hardly enough to allow him to understand what he'd just seen. Tony had been abducted by an Iron Man replica and Captain Rogers had just chased after the kidnapper riding a second suit. With that crowd of people Bruce was more aware of himself and how he couldn't do anything to help, not without harming a lot of innocents. "Please catch them, Steve..." he muttered hopefully, if anyone could do anything about this it was the Captain.


	2. Chapter 2: Iron Blinds

**Zafona's Note:**

**I'm sure you all got the big warning in the beginning so I shouldn't have to repeat it here but I'll just re-emphasize: Not for squeamish readers, very graphic.**

**And thank you to our reviewers! Touta Matsuda and I are very pleased and hope you enjoy it :D**

**Matsu's Note:**

**Things get ugly right about here. For any questions as to motive, technique, or psychological ramifications you may direct your questions to me. Zaf loves attention, so simply saying 'hi' will appease.**

* * *

Tony started awake; his arms attempted to dart up protectively but were hindered by the manacles on his wrists. His mind was revving like an engine that just wouldn't start, with the desperation of hunted prey. Everything he remembered before blacking out _screamed_ danger, demanded full attention and full awareness –but he wasn't getting all the data. There were missing variables, and the equation just wouldn't work without them. Vision –why couldn't he see? In an ever-present level of terror, ebbing on panic, Tony's mind raced for answers. Had he gone blind? Was he just not conscious enough?

A mental slap in the face brought him back down. He could feel it, whatever 'it' was, resting on his face. It was metal, somewhat cold, and completely unyielding. For a moment Tony wondered if it was his Iron Man mask, offline and dented, but he quickly remembered that although he was in a fight before this, he hadn't been in his Iron Man suit. He'd been completely vulnerable, and he'd intentionally been taken alive. '_I knew it_,' a small consolation. His sight was hindered by an iron blindfold, which Tony had to admit was just odd enough to be discomforting.

He tried moving his arms again to no avail, the manacles were firmly bolted down to what Tony could only assume was a work table or something akin to one. After several attempts he found that his ankles and waist were equally bound and restricted. The iron blindfold doubled as a head restraint, keeping the back of Tony's skull firmly pressed to the table below. He let out a shaky sigh, his hands beginning to tremble as the dark stirrings of something long passed edged at the corners of his consciousness.

"Hello?" Tony cautioned this single invitation. Part of him desperately hoped there would be no reply, because whatever reply he received would probably be a guilty party however, a small part of him dared to hope for a reply, a friendly, just in time to save the day. It was a pathetic thought, a weak one, but there was something about being robbed of sight and mobility that put you right back in touch with your weaknesses. For Tony some of these weaknesses may or may not be dredging up memories of Afghanistan.

A moment of silence passed until a strained, "Hey Tony," broke it finally. Steve answered as calmly as he could though he wasn't exactly in a position of comfort. He'd intended to save Tony from the wretched things but he hadn't ended up on top. His gaze shifted from the factory floor to the metal table his comrade was strapped down to, he wanted to ask if Tony was alright but it was a stupid question. He briefly thought of being a bit humorous and mentioning how comfortable Tony looked in comparison to himself but the genius couldn't actually see him to compare. Steve hung doubled over in midair, suspended by a thick chain to the ceiling above. The Captain's wrists were bound behind his back with barbed wire, the barbs buried deep in his wrists. The position of being strung up with wrists shackled behind his back was a particularly uncomfortable one, twisting and wrenching his shoulders in –and nearly out of- their sockets. He tried to ignore the fact that all of his weight was hanging from his wrists, the metal digging into his flesh like a hot knife. He would have lifted the burden if it had been possible but his toes skated across the floor, a pathetic taunt to show him he couldn't actually do anything.

Steve opted for not saying much of anything after the initial hello. Tony would be well aware that if Steve could have he would've gotten them out by now and everything that came to mind to start a conversation came out stupid. It wasn't easy to think as he dangled, the tips of his toes grazing over the grime on the smooth floor. He grit his teeth, trying not to move much at all as his arms still tingled angrily. They couldn't quite go numb as most other people's would but they went about half way, meaning he would be stuck with that awful prickling sensation the entire time he was suspended. Which, if he thought about it, wasn't nearly as bad as hanging from his wrists with barbed wire. It hurt and now that Tony was awake maybe he'd get a bit of a distraction out of him, or possibly not but Steve was hopeful.

First he tried to scan around the room again though it hadn't changed at all since he'd first taken a look. The floor was still dirty, grungy looking and too far away. The walls were darker, bathed in eerie shadows that danced across their barren expanse as the hanging lights swayed with what seemed like perpetual motion. Thanks to the lighting Steve could make out the boarded up windows evenly spaced high along each wall. The room was pretty far across in all directions, or so it looked from his angle; it could be that his eyes were playing tricks on him but he was a fairly sharp individual, visual problems weren't usually associated with Captain America.

The interior of the building looked like it was something out of the forties, or something soon after. It was old and smelled of must and other things. There was the quiet scamper of a rodent, and the footfalls guaranteed it to be nothing smaller than a poodle-sized rat. The building was nothing but concrete and steel girders. It could've been an old sewing factory, or a warehouse of some kind. The ceiling was high up and Steve marvelled at how long the chain was, the one connected to the barbed wire on his wrists. Steve shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to think about something else, anything else at this point and he'd rather sound stupid than hang in silence. "So are you okay?" He asked gently. "Anything broken?"

"Oh thank god," Tony sighed in relief. Steve was here –if Tony had been asked only three hours earlier if there was anyone he'd bring with him to a deserted island, he'd have picked Steve Rogers. He supposed one could swap out 'deserted island' for 'hostage situation' it amounted to about the same thing. At this point talking to anyone was better than dwelling on the worst, aka the near future. "Nah, nothing's broken as far as I can tell." Tony tried wriggling in his bindings –he was pretty well secured to the table, but if something had been broken he'd feel the pull. "But as for your question of being 'okay' I can certainly inform you, with _confidence_, might I add, that I am the exact opposite of 'okay.'"

Tony's response answered the question though Steve's mind wasn't quite off the 'wire in my skin' problem. "So I have to ask," he chuckled, making sure that his wince wasn't heard outright, "Who the hell did you piss off?"

"Who did I piss off?" Tony laughed dryly, "Who _haven't_ I pissed off. I piss people off just by getting up in the morning, never mind hosting the world's largest and most successful futuristic technology expo." Tony took a deep breath and sighed heavily. Fear was one of Tony's triggers, right up there with deceit and nervousness, that had him talking more and faster than needed or was probably even good for him. "The power went out," Tony started on a faint explanation, more to try and work out aloud what had happen than to fill Steve in, "and there's no way that the power just went out. It wasn't an accident, and it wasn't my fault. Pepper said sabotage –Pepper!" Tony's eyes widened at the realization that he had no idea what state she would be in. "They were probably after me –ok, they were definitely after me, so Pepper should be alright, right?"

"I don't think you need to worry about that, the drones took you and I hitched a ride but they left in a pretty big hurry." Steve wasn't sure if he was answering a question directed at him or the room in general but he figured it'd ease Tony's panic a little and that would help calm the other man down, get him thinking again.

"Right. So where was I? Sabotage," Tony would've been up and pacing by now if he'd been free to do it, though somehow he doubted his body held the strength required. "Someone else tampered with the reactor, which would mean that they had to have some kind of know-how about that sort of thing –but that would make him a genius, an employee or both." Tony took a deep breath, talking helped –not to make sense of what happened necessarily, but to calm himself. He couldn't see, but he could hear.

Steve looked back at Tony, pinned like a bug just before getting its wings skewered. He didn't like that idea but what could he do really? Keep calm and wait, that's about all he had in mind at that moment. "We'll find out who it was soon enough, Tony." The captain replied to the senseless babbling of his teammate, "Nothing's going to change if you know who it is before or after he reveals himself, just calm down and figure this out."

The sliding metal doors opened, revealing a tall, well-dressed man in a fedora cap. "I see you two have taken the opportunity to discuss your predicament," his speech patterns seemed almost familiar, with a quick, almost salesman-like speed to it. An air of confidence, and though nothing complicated was said the man in the fedora hat seemed to have an unspoken intelligence about him.

Blue eyes snapped to the door as soon as the first creaking metal sound resonated through the room. His mouth felt a little dry as he stared at the man, his stomach churning as a familiar sense rolled through it. He recognized this person, or, at least recognized the general feel of this person. He'd gone through this kind of thing before, like he knew the man but obviously he couldn't possibly be the same person because whoever it was that Steve knew would inevitably be dead in the year 2012. Regardless, he couldn't shake the unyielding tension in his gut.

"Who's that?" Tony asked, panicky again. He never imagined that blindness could be so terrifying. It wasn't as though he had given it much thought, he never needed to. "Steve? !" Immediate answers weren't forthcoming, and Tony's calm was virtually nonexistent.

"I don't know." Steve said after his mind forced its way past the uncomfortable familiarity of knowing but not knowing someone. He wished he could give an actual answer, he'd never heard Tony so freaked out before. Apparently being in actual danger was terrifying for the genius, Steve wasn't too surprised though. Really, a billionaire who only fought the big battles in a suit of armour, mostly protected by it, of course Tony would be scared to be so openly vulnerable. Not to mention the event that led to Tony's creating the Iron Man suit in the first place, Steve hadn't heard a lot about it but Pepper had briefly mentioned it during his short stay in Stark Tower. He'd understood enough of it to know that Tony would have a certain rush of trauma return to him after waking in a strange place, held down as a captive.

"Calm down now, Tony," Fedora's smile crept through his words. "I haven't given you any reason to fear me," Tony's small sense of relief shrivelled with Fedora's concluding statement, "yet."

Steve growled, his lip curling up in a snarl as his eyes narrowed at the man, "Big words coming from a man who needs to tie us down before he can say them. I'm not scared of you and Tony shouldn't be either." Steve knew what he was saying and that it was foolish to do so. What could he accomplish by saying it? It wasn't like he expected the man to say 'you're right, I should let you down so I can fight you man to man' or anything. No one did that, especially when they had people like Captain America and Iron Man held captive. No, what Steve was hoping for was a possible attention grabber away from Tony, to give his comrade a moment longer to gather himself.

"Do you know who I am, Tony?"

"How the hell should I know? I can't even see you!" Tony spat back.

"Hm, maybe our guest knows," Fedora turned to Steve's suspended form. "What do you think, Captain Rogers? Do I look familiar to you?" Fedora's smile broadened, and he tilted the rim of his hat to allow Steve a better look. "Go ahead, take your time."

Steve didn't want to talk to this goon much longer but he couldn't ignore that the man somehow knew about the familiar feeling he had. He furrowed his brow and peered harder at the face, one particular one coming back to him, the very same sensation he'd had when looking at Tony for the first time. But that couldn't be true; Tony was the only lineage that Howard had, as far as he'd been told. "I don't..." he muttered and shook his head, letting his words trail off.

"Think really hard now," Fedora snarled, revealing the knife formerly clasped behind his back. He waved the blade to and fro before Steve's face, then angled the tip of his blade between Steve's clavicles. The knife tip was sharp, and cleanly broke the skin.

Steve winced, his muscles tightening when the pain started to sting at him, clearly this guy wasn't playing around and he wanted an answer. He bit back a groan as the blade was pushed a little bit deeper, he couldn't help an uttered complaint feeling his skin give and move aside for the knife like nothing. "You little coward." He snarled, the new ache on his chest was nothing compared to his wrists, he could handle a little knife cut.

The sounds coming from Steve made Tony wince, "Steve? What's going on?" Tony was really growing to hate this blindness, stupid blindfold. What was the point?

"I'm okay, Tony." Steve hissed, not taking his eyes from the stranger in front of him. Anger curled in his belly as he couldn't shake the feeling that it was true, he knew this man somehow. His mind came up with the possible answer several times but he ignored it, it sounded silly to him.

"I'll give you a hint," Fedora dragged the blade down Steve's exposed chest to the base of his sternum, "You knew my father." Fedora's eyes darted back up to Steve's holding his gaze while the super soldier processed this.

Steve clenched his jaw and bore his teeth as he growled out another pained sound, "AH!" he dropped his head and shook it in an angered attempt to shake his thoughts loose, "I knew a lot of people's fathers, son." He looked into those venomous eyes again, his stare holding strong. "But if I had to make a ridiculous guess, I'd say Stark."

"Bingo!" Fedora growled out the word with enthused gusto, his grin broad, psychotic in its intensity. "But you knew that from the start, didn't you? Hmmm?" He guided the blade back up through the severed skin of Steve's chest, breaking the fast forming clots and reparations. "One might think that you _wanted_ to be cut open."

Steve frowned and forced his jaw to relax, he'd been hit was so much worse than a tiny knife cut, that didn't mean it didn't hurt but he knew he could handle it. '_Just keep telling yourself that.'_ "If I'd known you had a knife on you I might've said it before you cut me." He spat back bitterly, not one to enjoy being objectified like that.

Tony lay paralyzed on the table, and sincerely doubted that the case would be any different without the manacles. '_Did he just say cut open?_' Tony's mind was spinning out of control. Everything was wrong, just plain wrong. The expo was crashed, his arc reactor compromised, he'd been captured and strapped to a goddamn table, and the one person in the world he was certain wouldn't rest until he was brought home safe was in the room with him –being dissected by a guy who claimed to be a Stark. This was just too nutty to be a dream, only reality got this messed up.

"Oh yes," Fedora continued, "You wanted the spot light on you, away from your teammate. Because you're the captain, you're the strong one, and you're going to save Tony Stark." The well-dressed man's faced twisted in a scowl, and he spat in Steve's eye. "You don't have the luxury of keeping those thoughts in your pretty little head, Rogers." Fedora took a step back, away from Steve's suspended form, and took a saunter towards Tony's table.

Steve had to close his eye, another growl rumbling in his throat, "If Howard really was your father you wouldn't be doing this! Hey!" He shouted after the man's retreating back, "Get back here! I was talking to you!"

"You heard it yourself, my dear brother. Identified by the one man alive who really knew our vagrant father." The stranger dragged his hand along Tony's exposed torso, sending a chill down the billionaire's spine. Fedora pat Tony on the cheek twice while passing the head of the table and Tony flinched at the unwanted contact. He could hear the man tinkering with some metallic object behind him, and desperately wished he knew more of what was going on.

"You wish," Tony replied evenly, gathering some of his wits about him. Stalling was something he was good at, endlessly good at. He could talk circles around anyone, and this should be no different. "I know I'm an only child, and even if the great Howard Stark," Tony spat out the name with no shortage of indignity, "did have countless illegitimate children, you'd be nothing but exactly that: illegitimate. You don't have any claim to anything."

What Tony couldn't see was plain as day to Steve, who had the perfect vantage point from across the room. Fedora was toying with a hearth, using iron tongs to turn over a glowing red hot coal. Fedora cast a wicked smile Steve's way, sharing with the super soldier the brief moment of foreboding that lay before them. The man lifted the tongs to inspect to coal, and moved the glowing object over the iron blindfold that lay across Tony's face.

Steve's heart was in his throat as he watched, a terrible feeling churning in his stomach even worse than before. Tony couldn't handle that kind of pain, the captain was well aware of this fact. Yes, Tony was a great fighter in his suit and he had a fantastic mind but he just couldn't take something like that, there was no way. "Don't," Steve wasn't sure if his tone was one of warning or request, he wished he could just jump down from where he hung, part of him really considered it. If he did it now, sure his wrists and hands would be useless, but there was no way this other Stark could take him, not so close to full strength. But then again he didn't know what else this guy was capable of, or if he could actually even break free. The chains were also connected to other parts of his body, though hanging loosely, just because he'd be off the barbed wire didn't mean he'd be free.

"You're an engineer, so tell me, how quickly does iron heat up?" The coal was carefully placed on top of the iron blindfold, directly above Tony's left eye, and the tongs pulled away.

"That depends, do you want the answer in kilo-joules per-" Tony's snarky comment was cut short as the intensity of the heat just above his face registered. It only took seconds before the sweat broke out across his brow. Tony fought back a shrill cry and bit his bottom lip.

"In medieval Europe, they called this abacination," Fedora spoke casually; "It's a means of blinding a victim of torture by placing a heated metal plate over their eyes. In this case I've applied the heat directly above a single eye, and while the spread of the thermal energy will burn all of the skin in contact with your iron cover, the singular point will burn off your cornea."

"No," Steve muttered breathily, "Come on, you haven't even told us what you want!" He was worried because of that exact fact. It meant that this man already had what he wanted, and that was Tony. It meant they had nothing to offer him to get him to halt his torture session. Sweat already beaded on Steve's face as he thought, frustrated and anxious and hoping something would come to mind to get him away from Tony. Nothing did.

Tony couldn't hold it together, the threads of control he'd only just grabbed hold of were quickly unravelling –or in this case, incinerating. A pained scream ripped from his throat as he tried to thrash, to get his arms up or his face away, but he still couldn't move. He screamed again, feeling the hot sting on his left temple, smelling the burning of flesh –_his_ flesh. He could hear sizzling, and soon smelled the stench of burning hair –his eyebrows, or eyelashes, or both were burned clear off under the iron binding. "Stop! Please!" He shouted and pleaded, "I'll give you whatever you want! You're a Stark? Fine! Money! Fame! Take it! Just stop!"

"You'll admit anything under pain and threat of death, won't you? The famed Tony Stark, wonder boy genius," Fedora taunted, lifting the cooling coal from the iron blindfold and dumping ice water over Tony's head. "And you masquerade around as a superhero, the 'Iron Man.' What a pathetic joke." Tony heard the clicking of a latch somewhere to the left of him on the table. "Let's see our handiwork, shall we?" Fedora turned back to Steve, "I bet you're dying to know what my 'improvements' looks like."

The captain furrowed his brow, his jaw clenched even tighter than before. This man was hurting a comrade, a _friend_ and it was starting to make his blood boil. "You're one sick puppy," he spoke evenly, a threat under his tone.

The man casually bent down to access the levers beneath the table. The foot of the supporting board dropped, and the table was jacked up a few notches to raise Tony somewhat upright. "Now, for the grand unveiling." The man reached for the iron blind, pausing briefly to swat Tony in the shoulder, "Quit your snivelling!"

Carefully pulling at the blind, the man reached for the medical trolley to the left of the table for a scalpel. "We don't need all of the burned flesh to tear away with the iron bar, now do we?" Pivoting his hands, Fedora reached behind the blind with the surgical scalpel and began scraping away and the seared skin.

The pain was unreal, unlike anything Tony Stark had lived through before, or so he was presently certain. He was oddly silent. It all seemed so dreamlike; as though he were watching the events unfold from outside of himself, the pain just too much to continue feeling. He vaguely wondered if this was the onset of trauma, where the individual pulled away from the world, inside themselves as a sort of mental protection. In a few moments, the blindfold was pulled back and off of Tony's head, revealing the damage.

Steve winced when he saw it; the scarred and mutilated portion of Tony's once relatively smooth and well-taken care of face. "Oh my goodness..." His could feel his face was tense though anger wasn't the primary expression on his face, he was shaken and appalled someone could do that to another person.

Tony looked around the room, as though trying to see himself. He was consciously aware that only one eye seemed to be responding, or even sending signals back. His eyes caught hold of Steve, hanging half way across the room from himself. The soldier looked horrified, and Tony felt his own gut churn at the thought of what that meant.

His left eye sort of twitched, staring unfocused into nothingness. The whites of his eye were swollen yellow and puss-filled, and the iris was glazed over grey. His eyebrows and eyelashes were burned away, leaving the undefined socket alien looking in appearance. The lateral side of his eyelid was melted away.

"You see Tony, I don't really care that we're siblings," Fedora walked around in front of Tony to look him in his one good eye. "I don't care that Howard Stark was my father, although I am grateful for the gifted intellect. I don't even care that you inherited everything from the wealth to the fame and all that lies between," he gestured vaguely with his right hand, not that Tony could see much of that side. "I like to earn what I have. And I did. I was brilliant. You know me, Tony Stark. Take a good look and tell me you don't remember my face."

But it was no good, Tony wasn't focusing on anything –couldn't focus on anything. Not Fedora's words, not on Steve's mortifying contortionist hanging, and not on his own pain and disfigurement. His mind was gone, shut off from the overload while still remaining conscious.

Blue eyes closed, squeezing shut as Steve had to look away, "Oh Tony..." A disturbing shiver running down his spine. Something told him this was far from over and seeing Tony like this might end up being one of the good memories.

"Fine, I'll see you both tomorrow."

"Wait!" Steve called out, "Just... tell me your name. Did Howard know about you?"

"My name? Ask Tony, he should remember."

Steve watched the doors close and groaned again, his weight really starting to drag on his bonds, the wire slowly cutting further into his skin. _'If he doesn't let me down soon I'm going to have a really hard time moving my arms.'_ He thought dismally, glancing around the room as if a third look would somehow aid him. Nothing was within reach, not that he could even reach for it if it were. He looked over at the table again, "Tony? Tony get a hold of yourself, I know it hurts but you have to come back to me, come on." He tried to coax his comrade back around though he didn't honestly expect much.

Tony's attention was drawn to the sound of the doors creaking shut, an almost unconscious movement –instinctual. The threat was gone for now, of this he was distantly aware. His head was free to move about, although had held no interest in causing unwelcomed pain, and kept quite still. Tony could hear Steve's voice, the sort of muffled sound you might hear when your head's submerged in water. With the adrenaline of the moment gone, Tony wanted nothing more than to sink into the blackness of unconsciousness. Tony's right eye fluttered closed, but the left was molten and disfigured and didn't so much as flutter. Nearly complete blindness rested in his left eye, save for the sparse retinal registrations of light in the room.

A moment later Steve felt a pop in his left shoulder, a scream tore from his lips as his body lurched forward and he swung a little. The first shoulder popping out of place put enough stress on the second to have it copy the dislocation, tearing another cry of pain from the captain. He gasped and bit back the whining groans to the best of his ability. "Ah... Okay..." he wheezed, "My shoulders are out. Peachy." It was a dry attempt at humour though he doubted it lightened the mood for either of them.

Steve's shouts of pain lurched Tony back into consciousness, fully aware of his own body. He couldn't help the anguished scream of his own as the full force of his torment struck him anew. Tears burst from his right eye, his left having suffered tear duct damage did not respond. His entire body began to shake, whether it was from the physical trauma or fear, even Tony wasn't certain. Attempts to regain composure were in vain, as every choked back sob simply increased his hyper ventilation. "Steve-" Tony choked out his captain's name: a plea, begging for the pain to stop, for this all to be over.

Steve lifted his head to look at Tony again; not at all surprised to hear the crying though he hadn't expected his name to be choked out. "Tony, calm down." He said calmly, hushing Tony as best he could. "You'll be okay," he wanted to say 'this is just the start of it' but that wouldn't help. "But you need to calm down; your body's in shock and you'll only make it worse by tensing up." He smiled shallowly and kept a brave face, he was good at that. "I've been in some pretty bad situations before; if this guy is any worse than Nazi Germany I'm going to call him Hitler Stark." Humour hadn't worked a few moments ago and it probably wouldn't work now but Steve figured laughing was better than panicking.

Tony took a deep, shuddery breath. The captain's soothing words were miniscule in their aid, but were comforting enough to calm Tony down to a point where sleep was again possible, and really, that's all Tony wanted at the time –a way to escape the waking world. He didn't reply to Steve's soothing words, but instead embraced the brief calm and drifted into a fitful sleep, where stints of rest were as short as several minutes, and never longer than two hours at a time.

The soldier watched the frightened genius rest, eyes closed and slumbering fitfully. It wasn't a pretty sight but at least Tony managed to sleep. Considering his own predicament, the constant pain throbbing down his arms and through his wrists, Steve doubted he'd sleep more than an hour.


	3. Chapter 3: Reinforcements and Promises

**Zafona's Notes:**

**Gotta thank you guys again, I'm shocked at how many enjoyers of pain we've got here ;) Nice to see Matsu and I aren't the only twisted little buggers around.**

**Writing this is tough too though, we want to make it seem more real, that the trauma slowly sets in you know? Can't just have 'bam! Traumatized!' with jazz hands and all that. Gotta settle inside this little horror shell and ride the waves. Wtf am I even saying anymore, I don't know.**

**Matsu's Notes (completely optional)**

**This section originally said: "Matsu says hai guyz! (Not her actual words but close enough)" posted by Zaf. And I had no reason to change it, because I really don't have anything else to say.**

* * *

The police redoubled their efforts on crowd control after they finished gathering several statements, from Pepper specifically, among other high profile attendees. All in all the power had only been out for all of ten minutes, but those ten minutes were more than enough time to throw the throngs of fans and other attendees into a frenzy, never mind abduct two of the world's most notorious superheroes. Stark's personal security were already on the lookout, in cooperation with the local police detachment, and Pepper doubted that it would be long before she received a visit from a couple of SHIELD operatives.

Pepper returned backstage, where she'd last seen Dr. Banner. "Did you see what happened?" She asked, somewhat hopeful, somewhat frightened at what exactly he could have seen.

Bruce looked up and shrugged, "I did and I didn't." He knew it was a bad answer but it's really all he had. "Tony was fighting an Iron Man replica, or, more like getting a beat down by one. He was being taken away when a second replica from the crowd rushed in as well, I'm not sure why they thought they'd need two to take down Tony without his suit but they did. Steve was on the second one; my guess is a rescue attempt on his part though if it were successful you think we'd have heard back by now." He shook his head. "I have no idea where they are but I don't think Steve's doing any rescuing right now."

"What do you mean? Of course Steve will rescue Tony, he's got to I mean-" Pepper caught herself. She was doing that thing again, the panicking where it doesn't help, and it doesn't get anything done. She took a deep, calming breath to compose herself. "We can't count on them to save themselves. I'm sure it won't be long until we hear from SHIELD on this one."

He watched a few of the security guards trot by and wondered what they had been doing, what Tony was paying these people for. Part of him wanted to get angry about it but he knew better, it was just as much his fault for not saving his friend as it was theirs. He was probably closer to Tony than most people actually, so it was _more_ his fault than theirs. "We can't wait for SHIELD to find us. They have more resources at their disposal and without Stark with us we can't access half the things we need to." He flipped out his phone and decidedly gave a certain SHIELD operative a call, one he figured wouldn't be in a hazardous position whilst receiving said call.

Being a SHIELD agent had its perks, and if you ever asked one, they'd probably just deny SHIELD's very existence; but from one operative to another, it was totally worth the bullshit and alien invasions. Take, for example, vacations. Now, an operative never really got a 'vacation' per se, but they may end up taking a week or two longer in the Australian Outback to flush out that war criminal. Clint Barton set his bombora vodka down, and picked up his vibrating phone. "Barton speaking."

"Hey, Clint. It's Bruce." He figured he sounded unique enough that he didn't need to explain, though if he did he'd have to remind himself later to kick Barton's ass.

Clint's demeanour softened a bit, and he picked up his drink. "Hey Banner, long time no see."

Alright, no ass-kicking. "Listen, Tony and Steve are missing. They were taken at the Stark Expo not all that long ago by a couple of Iron Man replicas; we need help finding them."

Clint nearly sent vodka out his nose, "WHAT?" Iron Man and Captain America, the two most prominent members of the Avengers Initiative were kidnapped. Fantastic. "And why would you be calling me, and not director Fury?" Clint already knew the answer –Fury was the director, a spy and a self convenient liar. Bruce didn't trust him, hell, none of the Avengers really trusted him.

Bruce paced back and forth agitatedly as his hand clutched the phone, "I called _you_ because you wouldn't ask as many questions when I said our friends are in serious trouble." It wasn't much of an answer but Bruce figured Clint would get the idea.

"Alright, I'm on my way. I'll meet you at Stark Tower around oh five hundred."

"Deal." Bruce hung up and looked over at Pepper, "Clint's on his way to Stark Tower, let's get a move on."

"Right," Pepper nodded, affirming the directive. If they were going to get Tony back alive (again) she'd have to be on top of this. She couldn't just wait for SHILED to step in and save the day, despite her thoughts of only ten minutes prior. She'd help save Tony. "We can take Tony's car; it's parked in the executive visitor's lot back this way."

* * *

Arriving at Stark Tower took almost no time and yet Bruce couldn't stop the angry bubbling in his gut. He knew the longer they took to solve this the less likely it would be that Steve and Tony were alright. No one abducted people in Iron Man replica suits and ended up being friendlies, they were pissed at Tony Stark for some reason or other and there wasn't a doubt in Bruce's mind that it would result in a lot of harm.

"Any ideas of who Tony pissed off recently?" He asked Pepper as they went down to the penthouse area, waiting for Clint to arrive. He didn't want to share his bitter thoughts with her, it was bad enough that one of them was stuck thinking about it.

Pepper's face immediately lit up with the formulation of an answer, and darkened just as quickly. "Tony's biggest flip off of late had been to SHIELD..." she trailed off, knowing exactly how bad that sounded. "SHIELD's been pressuring Tony to get back in to weapons manufacturing," she quickly tried to explain. "They don't trust Hammer Tech, and while their own guys are good, Tony's better. They've tried everything from invoking Howard Stark's legacy to straight up blackmail."

"He can be pretty infuriating when he doesn't want to do something for you... But SHIELD wouldn't do this. If they had the capabilities to make those Iron Man copies then they wouldn't really need Tony." Bruce sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose, he didn't know Tony's daily activities well enough to know what or who he had ticked off in the past few months.

"Other than them, no. Tony's been very well behaved since Steve moved into Stark Tower."

"That's even weirder." Bruce chuckled, "It's hard to believe Rogers' presence made a positive difference."

"Is it really that hard to believe?" She eyed Bruce, "Steve's a stand-up guy, it'd be odd to think that his presence _wouldn't_ make a difference."

"Touché."

When JARVIS piped in with the alert that Mr. Barton was landing on the helipad, Bruce stood and hurried up top. He waited patiently as the blades stopped spinning and two agents stepped out, Clint and of course his partner Natasha. It was nice to see both of them. Bruce didn't bother waving, he knew they were aware of where he was standing and it'd be just a tad repetitive.

"What's the news, doc?" Natasha started first. "Heard the expo was crashed."

"Yeah, Iron Man replicas," Bruce answered, motioning for them to follow him back down. "Someone made two of them and abducted Tony, Steve was in the midst of trying to save him but it didn't work out that way."

Clint nodded silently, following Banner's lead inside. He gave a quick nod to Pepper before focusing more intently on Banner's debriefing.

"Cap doesn't often fail in rescue missions," She mused, glancing over at Clint out of the corner of her eye.

"Exactly. So we need to find a way to locate them. I figured you guys could help." Bruce looked at them hopefully, an expression not common on his face.

Clint shot Natasha a silent look, shared just between them, before addressing Bruce's concerns. "Bruce, I'm not Batman. I don't have all of the tech, money, and gadgets to throw around. Nat and I can't mobilize SHIELD, or even so much as use their equipment without going through Director Fury first. But we will do everything we can to help find our teammates."

"Luckily," Pepper chimed in, "we don't need a comic book character to save them. Tony has all the tech and money we could need, and I'm sure JARVIS has some not so legal access to a good majority of SHIELD's databases."

Clint exchanged another glance with Nat, before mentally deciding that selling Tony out to Fury was a fruitless endeavour, and so not his battle. "Great, so where do we start?"

"Hold up, so JARVIS will let you get into the important files? I suppose getting Tony back would be on his top priority list..." Bruce tried to make sense of how the computer worked and its security and everything else but figured it best not to wrack his brain too much. "Alright, whatever." He waved his hand at them before anyone could really say anything, "If SHIELD could follow me into third world countries and know where I am then I'm sure JARVIS can figure out where Tony is." He cracked his knuckles and headed for a computer, "I'd suggest we go through footage first. JARVIS I'd like all the security footage from Tony's office, please."

Natasha nodded, "Good idea," She looked over at Pepper, "I'd suggest going through all the important events that involved Stark Industries in the last year, Clint and I will do background checks on your employees past and present."

With the orders given, they spread out to do their portions of the job. And what a huge job it was going to be.

* * *

_Steve sighed and wiped his brow, he'd finally moved all of his things up to the bedroom Pepper had indicated for him. She'd tried to insist they could get moving people to do all of it, that he wouldn't have to bother with it himself. He shook his head and refused, the movers had done plenty of work in transporting his things to the tower, he could handle taking it up by himself. Apparently his decision was a little infuriating for her, a common 'man trait' or something, he wasn't sure exactly. Regardless though he figured she wasn't all that mad because she kept coming around to see how he was doing._

_He looked over the boxes and smiled a little to himself, sure he was in another unknown place but that didn't matter as much because he was living with people that knew him. Or, well, knew him a little anyway. Pepper wanted to help him, wanted to get him on his feet again and comfortable with the new world he found himself in. It was a very sweet thing to do, he could thank her endlessly for her help but it might grow tiresome for her._

_Another thing that weighed on his mind was the thought of Tony. In the few times that Steve had visited the tower he hardly ever saw the genius roaming about, aside from when he'd do exactly that to grab a drink or something. Generally his conversations were with Pepper, or possibly JARVIS when asking for something. It was odd to think Tony worked so hard, someone that laid back. Steve made a mental note to go down and watch at some point, say hello properly. Had Tony even known about Pepper's decision to allow him to move in? Steve doubted it was kept from the younger Stark though he also doubted Tony had paid any attention when the name 'Steve Rogers' was mentioned._

_Not that it bothered him, or anything._

_That evening Pepper politely informed him, and apologized of course, that she had to go to a meeting and it was quite the trip away so she'd be gone for about a week. He assured her he would be fine and wished her happy travels. It had only been an hour since she'd left and he found himself sitting in the open area alone, pondering if moving to such a big empty place was any better than a small empty one. His attention was caught when he heard a door open and Tony's voice jabbering on to JARVIS about some science whatever. A small amount of panic hit him but he told himself he was allowed to be here, he lived here now and if Tony didn't know that it was no big deal._

"_Hey Tony." He waved casually from the couch, offering a sort of smile, still a bit nervous._

_Tony's pause would have been imperceptible to the average human eye, though his overactive brain wasted no time in informing him that Steve Rogers was not average in any sense of the word, and despite the attempt at nonchalance, the captain was unbelievably attentive at this precise moment. The trip in Tony's step was a millisecond of interrupted thought, and nothing more. And if he had experienced a slight heart murmur, then he'd simply have to make a note to check on the efficacy of his arc reactor. In the mean time, it would simply do to say, "Hi, Steve."_

_Tony quickly continued on with his procedural developmental project discussion with JARVIS so as not to lose his train of thought. Not that he ever lost his train of thought, but he wasn't usually so distracted._

_Steve stood and wandered around to where Tony was, a sort of casual, nonchalant movement that hid his desire for human conversation and contact. He was lonely, it was one of the reasons he moved in, thinking at least Pepper would be around to talk to. However she obviously had work to do and he couldn't exactly ask to go with. So here he was, standing with Tony Stark, a man that often rubbed him the wrong way, trying to make conversation. Would wonders never cease?_

_Tony worked in silence for all of five minutes before he abruptly dropped his precision tools onto the work table. "Could you ... NOT do that?"_

_Steve jumped a little, startled about as much as Tony had been. All the while he'd been attempting to come up with something to say, something that was break the awkward silence, or what he thought might be awkward. It was odd; most people welcomed you to their home when you moved in but... Well Tony hadn't offered much more than the 'hi' from his entrance. "I'm sorry," Steve stepped back and lifted his hands briefly to show he meant no harm, "I... don't know what I did... I'm just standing here... Not do what, exactly?"_

"_Whatever it is you're doing, it's distracting." Tony waved a hand in Steve's direction, shooing the man away. Secretly, Tony wished he wouldn't leave. He wished he hadn't snapped at Steve. He wished he knew why the soldier was so damn distracting._

_Steve stepped back further and nodded, "Right uh... sorry to bother you." He scratched the back of his head and started walking toward the door, "I'll give you some space." He looked up, a little hurt by the lack of welcome he'd received, somehow expecting his experience would be different. But really he shouldn't be expecting more than that. Tony was a busy guy most of the time and he was just sort of in the way, distracting, trying to talk while Tony was trying to work. Steve felt foolish; he didn't know why he expected their friendship to grow stronger after moving here. It was a silly thought. "Sorry." He said again before closing the door behind him, nearly wanting to smack his forehead against it._'Stupid, Rogers...'_He thought as he walked back toward his room, deciding an early bed time would be a good idea at that point._

* * *

When Tony awoke, Steve was already conscious, and it occurred to Tony that there was a very strong possibility that the soldier had never slept at all. With the fleeting bliss of sleep escaping him, Tony felt an ironic sense of calm in the face of this new day. He knew Steve was right, they needed to keep their wits about them, put their heads together (regardless of how absolutely painful that currently sounded). He knew that if there was any chance of surviving this ordeal, it wasn't by throwing in the towel and crying like a baby. He was a genius, and had gotten out of worse situations –last time he'd been in the middle of enemy territory. At least here Tony was semi confident that they were still in America.

"Steve," Tony tried to speak, only to find that his throat was hoarse and dry. Tony remembered instances of his nightmares –he must've screamed in his sleep on more than one occasion. Tony coughed and wheezed, trying to clear his throat of what felt like weeks of dust settled there.

The sound of Tony's voice speaking was a good sign. "Morning." Steve offered with a bit of a smile though it looked weaker than it had the day before. He was exhausted already, not a wink of sleep was evident on his face. He couldn't really feel anything above his head anymore, aside from that god-awful tingle that wouldn't die. It was a good cause for insanity to someone who hated it but at that point Steve welcomed the feeling over throbs of pain. As long as he didn't move much.

"God, your shoulders look awful," Tony jibed, although he quickly became aware that he had not at all preoccupied himself with his teammate's condition until this moment. Steve's shoulders were the worst of it, a permanent display of agony. The cut down his chest seemed all but healed now, and Tony couldn't help but wonder how much that psychopath knew about Steve's increased metabolic rate.

"Thanks." Steve replied dryly, "Not that I'm trying to ignore that fact or anything." He wanted to add 'nice face' to that but he decidedly kept the spiteful tone away from his words. He knew Tony was just taking it all in again, after all, this was the first time Tony really looked around since the trauma had occurred. Better not actually prod at that.

"Sorry," Tony muttered, avoiding eye contact with Rogers. Tony's first reaction and line of defense was humour; mock it, mock _everything_ until it seemed insignificant. The smaller the problem, the easier it was to deal with. He didn't do _'caring'_, it wasn't his thing, and if he was going to survive this, Steve would just have to deal with it –he was the captain, after all, that was his job.

Blue eyes shifted over to look at the wound on Tony's face, wondering how badly it stung. He'd never been tortured before, not really. Captain America had never been captured without a plan to do it on purpose, though he had to wonder if he could really say that anymore. He had jumped on the drone on purpose, a plan of rescue in mind; it just hadn't gone as expected. And right now, he supposed, would count as torture so he could strike that off his to do list. As much as he wanted to say something nothing particularly helpful came to mind. He could make promises but he didn't want to be labelled a liar. Their situation liked pretty grim.

"Any plans?" Odd, the genius one-man-think-tank asking the soldier for plans. Tony never saw himself as the follower type, never one to have a leader or even a team for that matter. Solo was how he flew, and it shocked him how easily he fell into the subservient role for Captain Steve Rogers.

Steve had expected the question, he had, he just didn't want to answer it. It meant admitting he was clueless. "Well, first things first, gotta try and keep our heads up. SHIELD will be looking for us and they find who they're looking for most of the time, nearly one hundred percent." He was aware of what he was saying, that he had no way of getting them out, something he was certain Tony was hoping for.

"Oh yeah, that's a fucking _brilliant_ idea," Tony snapped, half glaring Steve's direction. It's not what he wanted to hear, not in the least. He didn't expect Steve to be a hero, to have everything figured out. That was unfair, but he hadn't expected the legendary first Avenger's 'plan' to be sit it out and _wait_. That left them absolutely no control, no course of action: no power. Their lives and their fates were in someone else's hands. To Tony, it just screamed 'helplessness' and that wasn't something he could take.

Steve made a point of ignoring the snippy reply, noting that Tony hadn't actually added to it or offered his own. Instead of getting mad and reacting like a child he continued with his 'hashing out' what they should do. "Secondly, we try to figure out who Hitler Stark really is, what he wants and if we can give it to him before things get worse." Steve had to smirk at the nickname, personally enjoying it though it meant bad news for both of them. "Do you remember anything about him?"

"Believe me, I've been trying," Tony sighed, and tried to do anything – _think_ about anything, that would keep his mind off his face. His arms began to tremble as the thought; fleeting though it was, skittered around in his mind. The numb burning in his face stepped forward, no longer a background throbbing. "I can't remember," Tony slammed his good eye shut and ground his teeth together. He had to remember, the answer was in his own head, and Tony felt as though if he could just recall who this was it would all stop. They could be free, and this pain would be over. The pain –it wouldn't ever be over, it would continue to throb and ache and even if he survived, he'd still bear the scars and never forget, "I can't remember!" Tony cried, shaking uncontrollably as the sobs started up again.

"Tony," Steve's tone was calming as he tried to catch his teammate's attention, "Tony calm down, it's okay that you don't remember, alright? Nothing is riding on you remembering that waste of air." He knew as well as Tony did that nothing would change if they knew Hitler's real name, they'd still be hung up the way they were, they'd still be tortured and broken down. It was a tiny, stupid formality, foreplay that Hitler Stark was dancing around. He just wanted to give them some kind of false hope and Steve didn't plan on falling for it, he hoped Tony wouldn't either but that was probably something he'd have to help with.

A silence followed and as it ate at them both Steve decided to break it, though it wasn't much, "Tony," he started softly though his voice was still fairly strong. "I want you to prepare yourself, okay? Things... I'm guessing if SHIELD hasn't found us yet then they're having a hard time. Things are going to get bad yet, and it's going to hurt. You can't let go, alright? No matter what, don't let go of the hope that they _are_ coming for us, it's just taking longer." His face was stern as he demanded this, something he thought might even be impossible, of a normal man.

Although Tony's breaths were coming evenly, he was still shaking. He couldn't let go, Steve was right and Tony knew it –he wouldn't quit on the world and wouldn't quit on himself. He had to get out of this, make the bastard pay, and get on with his life. That wasn't a choice, that was the only way.

"Promise me, Tony."

Tony turned to Steve, making eye contact, and nodded. "I won't if you won't."

The captain smiled and nodded, "Deal."


	4. Chapter 4: Mercury Pearls and Thunder

**Zafona's Notes:**

**Hitler Stark will be called H.S. several times in this chapter, if anyone was curious lol I'd like to thank those of you that are reviewing and I urge the silent followers to do the same ;) we want to hear from you, encouragement is an asset to helping us update faster XD**

**Also I'm surprised at how many of you are a little sadistic. I expected like one or two readers! I'm impressed with you ;) Thanks for everything guys -generic author babble inserted here- and hope you enjoy chapter 4. Remember: it's graphic. Also, fluff.**

**Masu's Notes:**

**Zaf and I finished some major plot points in the development of this fic today, and I had to take a step back and stare at this work because wow, are we cruel. I mean seriously, how can we **_**do**_** this to beloved characters? Majority of torture method research was performed by yours truly, and if I messed something up, feel free to drop me a line and let me know. ~Cheers**

* * *

In their room there were no windows, long boarded up and abandoned. Tony couldn't tell for the life of him whether it was night or day, or even how many of either had passed. He knew he was thirsty and that he was hungry, and that it had at least _felt_ like a long bloody time since they'd last seen their psychopathic host. Tony closed his eye, and tried to think. He needed to remember who that bastard was before he came back for his other eye.

Steve watched Tony, could tell the other man was thinking long and hard about all of this but if he hadn't had an answer earlier then he wouldn't have one now. Sitting in silence for forever wasn't a known way to job people's memories, as far as the captain could remember. He was long past the point in noticing his shoulders anymore. His arms were completely numb now, not even that horrible tingling to bother him. He knew that his shoulders had tried to heal the way they were, his fast healing abilities would have made a decent attempt. However, that wasn't always a good thing, the current scenario he found himself in was a prime example. His arms would need to be adjusted after this; he figured that if he weren't hanging from them at such an awkward angle he wouldn't be so badly off but that unfortunately wasn't the case.

His gaze fixed on Tony then, watching the abused eye and wondering if he could see out of it. It didn't seem to bother his comrade that much anymore, though that could be because of his earlier prompts to 'stay strong' and all that. All in all Steve thought Tony looked very intent on figuring out who Hitler Stark was. Steve wasn't even sure it was a relevant anymore, although he kind of wanted to know too, so he didn't interrupt the thinking process.

Tony's concentration shattered when he heard the groaning of the metal doors slide open. "Hello pets, how are you doing?"

"Fuck off," was Tony's curt reply. His stomach was performing somersaults of its own volition, and threatened an upheaval just at the mere sound of the man's voice.

"Cute. Have you remembered me yet? Do you know why I loathe your very existence?" Fedora had traipsed his way across the room, back to the medical trolley to the side of Tony's table, and just out of his sight.

Steve furrowed his brow at the man but didn't dignify the question with a response, he was no pet and refused to answer to the term. Though the mentioning of 'loathing Tony's very existence' was a helpful clue, it meant Fedora-Hitler wasn't looking much more than for Tony's suffering. _'Great, the best kind of crazy...'_ He thought miserably.

Tony was grateful for the break between visits, and even more grateful for Steve, because it seemed like his brain was back on the fast track. This man had already dropped countless hints as to _how_ Tony should know of him. The man hated Tony, and apparently has for a while. Despite the fact that they're family, he had other reasons for his anger. He valued his own achievements, but somehow Tony had either discounted them or undermined them, and of course, the man was prideful about his intellect. Tony could feel the answer sitting at the tip of his brain, just waiting to be discovered.

"I'll take that as a no," the man lifted another surgical blade to the light, inspecting its edge. "Well no matter, I have something new in store for you today. Specifically for your friend here," a vicious, piercing stare cut across the room, straight to Steve.

It was Steve's turn to deal with a flipping stomach; he did not like the sound of that. "Bring it on, Hitler Stark." He sneered with a smile, might as well go down proud of himself for being a little bit witty. He knew it was going to hurt. Whatever _it_ was, it was going to hurt. This guy wasn't at all put off by scarring someone's face right off the hop, Steve figured something very gruesome was coming his way.

"I understand that you heal quite quickly, Mr. Rogers. I couldn't help but wonder if that had ever been used to your disadvantage." Fedora lifted a black container from the cooling unit on the lower level of the medical trolley. "What I have here are a series of somewhat inert capsules. Now, I use the term 'inert' loosely, as there is nothing wrong with the capsule itself, however they do contain a high dosage of mercury inside of them. From my understandings of Project Rebirth, your body is super efficient at waste management, among other things. Where the average human's system could never breakdown the capsule itself –yours easily will."

'_Right for my insides... Of course.'_ Steve swallowed past the growing lump in his throat and did his best to keep that brave face on. "My body will take care of the mercury too, you're threat's invalid." He had no idea what mercury would do to him, absolutely none. A bluff was the best thing he had to offer though he doubted it would work. This may very well kill him. If not, it would be the most excruciating thing he'd ever experienced.

Fedora smiled, and hummed an unconvinced "mmhmm," as if to say 'sure it will.' He placed the container on top of the trolley and wheeled it over to Steve's helpless form, hanging far more vertically now than before, with his shoulders torn and sinews snapped from their rigid hold. "Watch closely, Tony. You'll want to know where I put these." The man tilted his hat back with the dull end of his scalpel and set to work.

Steve tensed as the men closed in on him, his mind a flurry of possible ways he could avoid this, all impossible because he was chained. _'Crud... Crud crud crud crud crud!'_ He clenched his jaw, anticipating the pain.

Steve's right thigh was his first target. With surgical precision, the scalpel blade was carefully dragged through Steve's flesh – just a small incision, large enough to slip one of the small black capsules under the skin's surface. Fedora smiled, proud of his work, and placed a small steri-strip across the wound to keep it shut. "Judging from what I saw last we met, this wound of yours will heal shut, right over the capsule. Your body will set to work on breaking down the foreign object soon enough, I'd say in at least 8 hours. Now," the man straightened again to look Steve in the eye, "where would you like the next one?"

Steve did his best not to scream; only a displeased grunt escaped him as the sting from the cut throbbed angrily. He glared down at Hitler Stark; his teeth still grit painfully tight. He refused to show any kind of fear, not in front of this psychopath. This man was going to continue regardless of what he said, regardless of how he answered the question, "How about a scar to match?" He spat sarcastically, his legs tensing. He hadn't seen a better opening yet and his legs had been left to dangle, a bad move of Hitler S' part. His knee snapped up and nailed the man in the jaw, not as strong an attack as he'd hoped but still enough to send the man stumbling away. Steve's head arched backward as the motion had put extra weight on his arms and wrists, hot fresh pain sparking in his brain. He couldn't help the cry that burst from his lips, the veins on his neck visible as strained against his restraints.

H.S. stumbled backwards three paces, his hand darting up to his split lip. His dark eyes fixed in an unwavering glare. He knew the only reason he was still standing was because of Captain America's lack of leverage. He was hung by bleeding wrists, dangling on a chain; he had little strength behind his swing.

"If you're going to kill me then do it outright, you miserable coward," Steve growled.

"You impudent wretch," H.S. spat and wiped the blood from his hand on his pant leg, "If your goal is survival, you must be the stupidest man I've ever met. Just remember that you brought this on yourself." H. S. removed his phone from his pocket, quickly entering a code onto the touch screen display. The metallic doors dragged open, revealing the two drones from the Expo. The two entities closed in on Steve, grabbing one leg each and holding them taut.

The super soldier gave a slightly smug smile to his captor, blue eyes slid up the man's smaller frame with disgust, making sure he knew it well. Steve was well aware he was in a terrible position and he could feel the mercury capsule rushing through his veins like the deadliest poison, and it probably even was. His body felt sick just knowing what was going to happen to him and he knew it was only going to get worse. The first thing he knew to do was steel his mind to it, try and harden as much as he could before it hit him. He was no stranger to pain but he'd never felt it such high amounts for a long period of time. Steve glanced down at his legs, at the machines holding him still and winced at what he knew the added stress was doing to his wrists. It'd be a miracle if he could move those later.

H.S. approached again, producing another roll of barbed wire in his gloved hands. He smiled wickedly as the flashes of recognition sparked in Steve's eyes. H.S. fastened the wire to the iron loop soddered on the warehouse floor below Steve, and wound the barbs around Steve's ankles several times, binding them together. "That's going to sting a bit." H.S. assured Steve, patting him lightly on his wounded thigh.

Steve grit his teeth and glared at the man, his gaze still condescending regardless of the pain passing through them. "You're a miserable excuse for a man, son." He ground out as steadily as he was able, which was nearly as steady as stone in comparison to some people in his situation.

The robotic replicas released Steve's legs and backed off, moving to either side of the metal door and powering down temporarily. H.S. himself followed them, moving to a lever located to the left of the sliding doors. "And just because I don't think your suffering is great enough," H.S. began cranking the lever back, each notch it passed dragged along the chain's path up and across the ceiling, and lifted Steve just slightly higher. One notch passed, and Steve could feel the wire in his ankles begin to dig in.

The captain threw his head back from the sudden addition of fresh pain, a short, growled cry escaping him followed by a dated curse that wasn't terribly offensive to anyone in the room.

A second notch passed and the barbs were fully embedded in the tender flesh around the captain's ankles. A third notch began to tear the skin and damage the tendons, the sound of the ligaments pulling paralleling that of an elastic band stretched to its snapping point. "I do hope that this is more... accommodating." H.S. smiled, cruel and ironic in its nature. He returned to his trolley by Steve's languished form and picked up the scalpel, "Now where were we?"

"Oh I swear..." Steve gasped as he clenched his jaw through the pain, something he was finding to be nearly as straining as the throb in his shoulders or now his legs, "When I get down from here I'm going to bludgeon you and choke you with your own stupid hat." He wanted to go for anger instead of misery, like Tony seemed to be favouring. It did him no good to be either but in that situation he couldn't possibly feel nothing.

Tony squirmed in his bindings, to what end he wasn't sure. All he knew is that he couldn't just sit still. Not while Steve was strung up like that. It made the billionaire sick to his stomach to watch H.S.' proceedings, to watch this psychotic man calmly wrap barbed freaking wire around another man's limbs. Tony couldn't keep still if he tried; the fidgeting wasn't so much a habit as it was instinctual, like an animal's extrasensory knowledge of impending danger.

Tony Stark was no hero, and he had never claimed to be. He had no inclination to try and distract the suit clad, fedora-wearing maniac into redirecting his ruthless behaviour onto himself. Tony tried to tell himself that it was simply logic –that Steve Rogers was built to withstand more than himself, and should be the one to bear the brunt of it. It was all just self talk, a mechanism to avoid feeling guilty about his own lack of action. It didn't escape Tony that Steve was doing exactly what the genius engineer refused to do –distract H.S. He slung insults, maintained prolonged and defiant eye contact. Tony wondered if it was simply defiance, or if Steve was consciously attempting to divert Fedora's attention away from Tony. Either way, the captain's selflessness and strength only made Tony feel that much weaker bound to his upright table.

* * *

_Steve sat in the open like usual, a space that he could catch human interaction when it wandered in. He'd spoken with Bruce on numerous occasions and Pepper always came to sit with him and they'd had brilliant conversations. And Tony... well Tony was a rare breed to be seen as it was. Steve looked down at his sketchbook, the sheer amount of doodles on the page were alarming. He just scribbled down what he'd been thinking, a way to clear his mind and relax him. He drew Pepper that morning, her hair all done up beautifully and that smart suit she wore as she hurried off to another business meeting. He drew Bruce right after, the man's slight wave of his hand as he wandered out the front door, needing time outside of a city for a while._

_And then he drew Tony. Because he'd seen Tony in the late morning, closer to noon, dark and tousled hair, tired eyes and wearing his beaten work clothes. He'd wandered in, grabbed a coffee, barely glanced up, for what Steve had seen, and wandered back to his work station. At first Steve was mad, that Tony preferred to be so secluded, so withdrawn and into himself and never stayed to talk to him. But as the angry sketches continued he found himself just drawing the tiredness, the hard worker, just a man, no anger involved, just a sort of admiration mixed with silent contempt._

_A loud crack of thunder tore Steve's eyes away from his sketchbook and he looked out at the twilight sky clouded over and storming. He knew the thunder was a generally natural thing; he couldn't help but think about the demi-god, though. It was silly, he knew it was silly; Thor wasn't accompanying the storm, not every storm, anyway._

_Another foundation shaking boom caught the captain's heart and mind, his eyes flickering in memories, the sounds of gunshots, the storm he'd leapt into to save his friend and comrades, flurry of battle. His heart pounded then and when his mind snapped back, away from old nightmares and thoughts, he found himself panting. A cold sweat formed on him and he clenched his hands to slow and stop the trembling of his limbs, heart race fluctuating incessantly._

_Steve flinched when he heard another one and stood immediately. He'd never felt the need for company as strongly as he did at that moment, he just wanted another person to be next to him, to find comfort in the fact that he was ground where he was. But Pepper was out and so was Bruce._

_Steve looked down at his sketchbook, the rough doodles of a man he knew would be home, hiding out in the lab. "JARVIS," he asked, surprised at how scared he sounded, like a boy looking for his lost mother or something. "Is Tony in the lab?"_

"_Yes sir." The smooth voice replied immediately though it offered no solace._

"_Thanks." Steve gathered his sketchbook and pencils and hurried to the elevator, hitting the button for Tony's private space, knowing, or at least praying that he'd be allowed in. There wasn't an issue and as the door's slid open he stepped tenderly inside. Already a wave of relief washed over him when he spotted the other man hunched over something, working diligently._

_Tony paused at the sound of the elevator. JARVIS had informed him that Steve had inquired as to his whereabouts, and the genius could only assume that the captain intended to pay him a visit. Tony allowed the security clearance, of course, Steve would never know what happened in the background. Tony wanted to say something to the man, a greeting or a conversation starter, but he was too tired to come up with any sociallable pleasantries._

_The soldier couldn't think of anything to say and as his presence seemed to be unnoticed he was at a loss for words, despite how much he'd like to warn Tony that he was standing there. Steve opened his mouth to speak when another shock of thunder pounded and rumbled through the room. A soft, frightened, uncomfortable noise escaped him, his fingers curling along the binding of his sketchbook anxiously._

_Tony looked up then, dark eyes peering out from a mess of brown hair that fell over his brow. Steve Rogers was visiting him because he was_scared_. Tony's shock barely registered on his sleeplessly exhausted face. He couldn't recall a time where he'd seen Captain America show fear. Even when they lost Thor and the Hulk to who knows where, and Coulson was dead Steve wasn't scared for their lives or their futures, simply downhearted. Tony wondered what it was –it only briefly registered that the squeak of terror was paired with the clap of thunder._

"_Hi Tony," he finally said with a small wave, gathering himself and trying to firmly seem like he wasn't bothered by the storm. He felt so much better now, seeing Tony's face, knowing he wasn't in the middle of a war, knowing he was safely tucked inside Stark Tower._

"_Hi Steve," Tony said lamely, unsure of what else to say. He glanced back down at his work bench, bits and pieces of soddered parts and electronics laid strewn about. Tony felt the tinglings of his own humanity in the back of his skull, and knew better than to continue working and subsequently ignoring his guest. He placed his work tools down on the disorganized surface and rose from the bench, approaching Steve, "What do you say we head back upstairs and get some coffee brewing –you should tell me what you've been up to."_

_Steve knew his face had relaxed tremendously, that looked much more at ease and happier with hearing those words, that Tony could see it clearly. But he didn't care. It was a gesture of kindness, Tony didn't even point out the little squeak he'd made. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "That sounds great," he replied softly, a smile on his lips and he couldn't shake it, not that he wanted to._

_Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder, and was about to head up the stairs when he paused, "What's this?" Tony snatched the sketchbook from Steve to take a closer look._

_Steve tensed but didn't move to take it back, he didn't want to suddenly seem like a jerk after going to the genius for company. "It's uh... my sketchbook."_

"_Right, your file mentioned something about art..." Tony muttered to himself as he flipped through the pages. He stopped at Steve's most recent drawing and almost didn't recognize himself. It was like looking at yourself through one of those warped carnival mirrors, through someone else's eyes. Did he really look that old? Tony never realized just how ragged he ran himself, how other people saw his exhausting and sleepless stints. Despite the portrayal of tiredness, Tony couldn't help but notice the single-minded focus that Steve seemed able to replicate with graphite and paper alone. It almost seemed like... admiration? Tony squinted and regarded the sketch again._

_Steve watched in nervous silence as his friend skimmed through his sketches, landing on the ones that were all about him. What would he say? Did it seem creepy? Of course it did, he was being drawn without knowing about it, over and over and over again. Steve did his best to steady his anxious breathing and flinched again when another thunder clap slammed his ear drums. He wanted to snatch it back, possibly even tear it up. Tony wasn't saying anything. Tony always said_something_. Why wasn't he talking? Why wasn't he giving any feedback or reacting at all? He just stood there and looked, squinting and staring._

"_You know, you're actually pretty good at this art thing. You should help me design my next suit," Tony added offhandedly, and gave the book back to Steve. Tony knew his tiredness would be nearly as bad as drunkenness when it came to his social filter, and he was grateful for the small mercy of not outright offending Captain Steve Rogers yet again._

_Finally, words. Steve exhaled slowly and smiled as he took his property back, clutching it close to him, "Thanks, I'll bring up again with you when you aren't half asleep." 'What does he really think?' He thought as he watched the way Tony wandered off, following swiftly after him. Those big brown eyes gave nothing away, no hint whatsoever. Steve decided to let it go, if Tony was silent it was probably a good thing. He'd clearly demonstrated his vulnerability in those few moments in the lab and Tony was being polite and trying not to hurt his feelings. Whatever it was that the genius was thinking while looking at his art it couldn't have been terribly kind, Steve nodded to himself._

_They stayed up through the storm, talking and sitting on Tony's couch. The playboy had drank several cups of coffee though none of them seemed to be helping him any, his eyes continually fell heavily and then rose slowly, like a small child struggling to stay up past his bedtime. Steve leaned back on the sofa as he and Tony enjoyed a silent moment, neither speaking, or feeling like they had to. It was good. He wanted to express how grateful he was that Tony had risen from his lab, bothered to go and comfort someone who needed it. He was really happy they had the time to sit together like this, and keeping those kinds of things to himself didn't seem right._

"_Tony," he whispered softly, a tone that seemed appropriate for the situation. "I just... I want to thank you for tonight, I was vulnerable, and scared, and you really helped." He smiled and looked down at himself for a moment, his heart beating sporadically in his chest, words on the tip of his tongue he never thought he'd have the courage to say. Yet somehow, right then, he felt he could and without consequence. "Tony, I like you-" he stopped suddenly when he felt a warm weight on his shoulder. He glanced over and could have burst out laughing, though instead he settled for a smile. Tony had fallen asleep, slumped against him and slumbering quietly._

"_You're too cute." Steve chuckled and shook his head, adjusting his position to let Tony rest comfortably. Considering the other man's position, Steve had plenty of space to occupy his time, lifting his sketchbook and glancing down at the sleeping billionaire with amused eyes, intending fully to capture this moment._


	5. Chapter 5: Remembering Hudson

**Zafona's Notes:**

**Alright thank you everyone :D We're very pleased with the amount of people interested in this clusterf*ck of crazy XD Matsu and I have created our own****account****called Mangerang and will be uploading things there soon (not for this story mind you) it's a joined account that we both have control over and there's going to be a certain universe specific type thing going on there I believe. So you know, if you enjoy our writing then go and follow us, waiting patiently for our new stories :)**

**Matsu's Notes:**

***UPDATE* This is a reposting of TGS, originally featured on Zafona's page. Mangerang will feature the scp!verse heavily, but other co-auth'd fics will also appear here. (This note could've been placed in the bio...)**

* * *

"_**Didn't I tell you that you'd be needing that eye?"**_

H.S.' words were echoing in Tony's ears. He hadn't ever imagined that the man had meant _this_. He stood, paralyzed with scalpel in hand, eyeing the barren expanse of Steve's exposed skin. Tony swallowed hard, his eyes darting from fading scar to fading scar, then back up to Steve's mesmerizing blue eyes. Tony knew what mercury could do to a man's system, and he doubted that even the infamous Captain America was immune –while others would die, Steve would simply endure prolonged suffering. Howard's son had given Tony a chance to remove the capsules.

"It's okay, Tony." Steve's voice was calm and even, any fear he was feeling was far from apparent.

"_**Watch closely, Tony. You'll want to know where I put these."**_

Tony cursed under his breath; the maniac had planned for Tony to get his hands on that scalpel from the start. At first Tony thought the man insane, maybe even sympathetic –why give Tony the chance to remove the heavy liquid metal before Steve's body unleashed it upon itself? Why undo his own plans? It hadn't made sense up until this very moment, with the blade in his hand, an unseen timer counting down, and Steve bound and helpless in front of him.

The soldier swallowed as subtly as he could, his stomach feeling queasy and his limbs shaking a lot more than they had been. "You know where he put them, it'll be easy."

Tony had hurt plenty of people in the past; his tech single-handedly won wars for christ's sake. He'd built the Iron Man suit in a cave with a bunch of scraps, attacked the terrorists who had captured him, defeated Obadiah Stane... the list went on. But never in his life had he brought a knife to someone's flesh. What would it be like to cut open a human being while they were still alive? Tony had always worked with machines, engineering, technology... he had no use for biology, hadn't ever dissected even a rat. He hadn't a clue what kind of give to expect when he put a knife into Steve Rogers. The gut wrenching, sickening anxiety of the anticipation was in and of itself traumatizing. Tony could already tell he'd be having nightmares about this.

He took a deep breath, '_You can do this, Tony. It has to be done, you're saving him days of torment. Just... cut out the foreign objects. ...Yeah, easier said than done_.' Tony swallowed hard; did he even know where to find the small black beads? He'd paid attention, but their exact locations weren't as specific as he'd like. Tony still couldn't see clearly, and although he'd caught the general locations of Steve's injuries, he just couldn't focus his one good eye on the exact location. With his left eye burning, and starting to send false signals to his brain, Tony's depth perception was full on out the window. The sparse receptions of his bad eye only served to detect changes in lighting, sending a constant 'white noise' effect to his processing centres. His only chance at this was getting to them all before the scars faded. "You ready, Cap?"

Steve nodded firmly, his eyebrows furrowing together, lips drawn tightly. This was going to hurt, he knew it, was very well aware of it. Tony would have to dig in his skin, find the small offending objects and pick them out. The room was poorly lit, Tony was injured and with terribly trembling hands from his own pain, but it didn't matter, this would hurt much less than when the mercury capsules opened inside his body. "Do it, Tony."

Tony shakily approached Steve's right thigh –the first target. He inwardly cursed himself for his nerves and gripped the scalpel blade tighter to avoid wayward cuts. He smoothed a hand over the surface, feeling out the little bump under the skin before moving to make the first incision. He let out a long, semi steady breath, and dragged the tip of the blade across the fading scar, drawing blood from his comrade. Tony pressed his fingers to Steve's skin and pushed the lump out through the new wound, effectively removing the capsule.

The captain hardly flinched and smiled a little, "See? Easy." He did his best to reassure his friend though really they were both a little shaken by the entire scenario. Steve had imagined Tony's hands on him before, fingers on his thighs, touching him, feeling him... He just didn't ever picture it'd go this way.

Tony dropped the black bead to the floor and shuddered again –that had been difficult, to cut open another man, a _friend_, to force objects out of his body. All at the bequest of some deranged loon. Tony briefly entertained the idea of turning on H.S. –he had a knife, and might've been able to overpower him. But Tony remembered the implied threat –Steve would be stretched in his barbed wire prison, or lose his hands and feet, whichever came first. The robo-replicas were poised next to the door, next to the lever, and H.S. stood with them, watching the scene unfold.

Steve glanced at the psychotic man with angry eyes then fixed his gaze back on Tony, he wanted to insist it was okay, that this was necessary but he didn't want to say too much or repeat himself. All he did instead was smile and give a strong nod to his concerned friend, "You're doing great, Tony."

Tony's gaze drifted up to meet Steve's, his one brown eye wide with an unspoken fear and regret. His damaged wayward eyeball drifted across Steve's face unfocused, as though it tried to move by muscle memory, to accompany the movements of its undamaged partner. It was one of the first good looks Steve got of Tony's eye, and it was clear that the damage was extensive. The veins had burst, spilling unguided blood into the surrounding tissue, mixing with the yellow pus and blending into a murky reddish brown. With Tony's eyelid burned off, the damaged eyeball was clearly dried out, and while the damaged tear duct was constantly trying to produce tears to cleanse the eye it was evident that the burn had lead to an infection. The surrounding skin was red with irritation, and marred from the removal of burnt flesh that had pulled away with the removal of the iron blindfold.

Steve's gaze flickered with concern as he watched the deteriorated orb twitch, the disturbing amount of gore leaking from it. He wished he could do something for Tony, something that would ease the pain but there was absolutely nothing he could manage to do. He glanced up toward his wrists, the wire had torn through to the point that the chains shackled to him were starting to support some of his weight, it was nice to see and bad at the same time. He was concerned that his skin would heal over the wire, considering how deep the metal was embedded in him, and he figured that probably would if he didn't get down soon. It made him angry, to know that he couldn't get down even if he managed to mangle his limbs, that he couldn't save them. Tony was looking at him, those big scared brown eyes, hoping, pleading, praying even that a miracle would happen, that Steve would somehow be able to break free and carry him out. He wanted to say he was sorry but that looked like he was giving up, like he was admitting he could do nothing. And Steve refused to do that. He steeled his gaze and gave his friend an assuring nod, it was okay.

"Alright Steve, only... what, twelve more to go?" Tony tried to give a reassuring smile that he himself didn't even believe. There were a total of thirteen mercury beads planted in Steve's body, and Tony found the superstitious number to be absolutely ludicrous, given the intellectual acclaims H.S. seemingly boasted about. Tony continued the human excavation process, trying not to take it personally when Steve hissed in pain. One in each thigh, calf, forearm, and bicep, two in his chest, two in his back beneath his shoulder blades, and one behind his left ear. The last one would be the hardest, and Tony hadn't been sure that he could pull off that cut without going too deep and severing the vital arteries and tendons in Steve's neck. Tony gently nudged the final mercury capsule out from behind Steve's ear, like some twisted magic trick.

Stepping back, Tony couldn't help but realize the copious amounts of blood coating his hands and chest, and Steve's as well. The mercury was all removed, and Steve wouldn't be poisoned but damn did the man look awful, cut apart in thirteen places, and then again in all the same places a second time. "I'm so sorry Steve," Tony muttered, feeling the numbness of shock set in after catching sight of so much red.

"It's okay," Steve muttered a little breathless, more than happy that Tony didn't accidently slit his throat or anything. The way his comrade's hands were shaking he was more than a little concerned. "We're good, I'm alright." He looked down at his chest, the part of himself he could actually see properly and noted the amount of blood staining and dripping down his skin. "The cuts you made will heal just like the ones he made, alright?" He tried to be reassuring but he couldn't imagine having to do that to a friend, Tony could only feel like hell and that thought didn't make Steve feel any better either.

"Right, it's okay. We're good," Tony repeated his captain's reassuring words in a half daze, trying desperately to believe them. "We're okay," Tony murmured again, wringing his blood stained hands together in a nervous gesture. '_No quitting, Tony. You promised Steve you wouldn't shut down so get it together_,' Tony gave his head a shake and started to think –about anything: numbers, equations, the basic mock-up of the next arc reactor proto type, as long as he kept thinking, he told himself, he could make it through this.

Blue eyes shot over to their captor and steeled their gaze, "Enough of the games, who are you and what do you want?" He demanded in his best captain voice, he needed to stay strong for Tony, if he crumbled so would the other man, and Tony would probably fall apart much faster. Not that any of this was easy for Steve, just a kid from Brooklyn was still part of him, in the war he'd seen some ugly things but he was always able to do something about it. He could always fight back, never stuck and never helpless, aside from that one time... The last time he'd been unable to do anything resulted in the death of his best friend, not a happy memory for him. The time he ended up frozen he'd done to himself, that didn't count as helpless.

Steve knew full well his usual 'I could do this all day' attitude would prevail for a certain amount of time and a certain level of pain but he didn't want to imagine where his limit was. He'd barely lived 25 years of his life, still young and it was impossible for him to remain stone-faced and solid through all of this. He just prayed that SHIELD was coming for them, that they'd make it out before he felt the same traumatized pressure Tony was feeling. Steve had never been in such a dark state of mind and he never wanted to be.

H.S. smiled again, a small, crooked thing that nonetheless revealed his absolute pleasure with their pain. "You're still stuck on that one, huh?" he sneered, strolling up to them again. "Well Tony," H.S. leaned in close to Tony's face as he spoke, directly into the frightened man's ear, "Have you given it anymore thought?" His arm looped around Tony's shoulder and down the other man's arm, grasping the billionaire's wrist.

Tony flinched, only fully aware of H.S.' hold on him after his wrist was roughly twisted, causing him to drop the scalpel to the floor. He cursed himself inwardly for letting himself stay so distracted –it seemed what was necessary one moment was his worst hindrance the next. Tony wished with all his might that he could be anywhere but there. "C-can't say that I have..."

"You know something?" H.S. snarled, wrenching Tony around to face him fully, "With the way you treat people it's a wonder anyone can stand to be around you." H.S. reached up and grabbed a fistful of Tony's hair, steadying him in place while he laid a solid punch to the man's face.

Tony reeled, tried to bring his arms up to defend himself –to lash out against his attacker, and for his efforts received a punishing blow to his ribs, causing him to reflexively fold in on himself. H.S. released his grip, letting Tony drop to the floor, and laid a kick to the downed billionaire's side. "You're so self absorbed, so inherently and thoroughly self centered, that you not only disrespect everyone you come in contact with face to face, but do them the further dishonour of completely forgetting their very existence!" H.S. was clearly furious, a wicked snarl twisting his lips as he kicked Tony's side again.

"Tony!" Steve's voice was loud and strained as he jerked forward; his blood felt like it was turning to ice as he watched the scene unfold. "Get off him you psycho!" He clenched his jaw for what felt like the thousandth time that day, wishing he could just step down from where he was hanging and give the son of a bitch what was coming to him.

Trevor completely ignored Steve's helpless shouts, engrossed with the beating he was laying on his half brother. Tony curled up on himself on the ground, trying to protect his softer underbelly. "I said I don't know!" He yelled back at his assailant. All the while his mind worked on piecing it together... personal vendetta, genius intellect... possible employee?

"Then you're simply not thinking hard enough!" H.S. hissed, grabbing on to Tony's wrist and dragged his arm out away from his body. "Faced with scientific obstacles and you are capable of dredging up foreign pieces of information from the recesses of your mind, but when it comes to remembering your own employees and you couldn't be bothered to even acquire the faintest recollection!"

Tony cried out in pain as H.S. foot came down on his outstretched arm, sliding down from his elbow and pinning his wrist in place. '_An employee! A genius-level intellect, underappreciated employee_...' Tony's mind whirred on, skipping like a disc with too many scratches. "Trevor!" He screamed out, "Trevor Hudson!"

"Very good, Mr. Stark," Trevor ground the heel of his boot into Tony's wrist. "Now do you remember why?"

Tony nodded quickly so as to give no room for doubt that he remembered, "Four... no, five years ago," he sputtered, trying to piece together the swarm of individual memories into a coherent chain of events. "A director's board meeting, ...no! It was R&D..." As long as he kept the conversation going, as long as Trevor was convinced that Tony was retelling the details dutifully, the pain would be less severe, Tony was sure of it. He had remembered, and now maybe, just maybe, they'd get out of here in one piece.

"_Alright people, the Jericho Missile is in its final stages of development. For this, I'd like to give a round of applause to our R and D department. Good job guys, this will be Stark Industries crowning achievement of the decade." A thrum of claps and cheers passed through the boardroom. "But if there's anything I've learned in my career in the armaments industry it's that you can't survive on one impressive feat alone. We're our own competition, so I want to see design specs on a weapon that will outdo our own yet unreleased Jericho Missile. Let's get to work!"_

_Another round of applause followed Tony Stark out of the board room, the confident swagger of his stride only amplified by his imagistic-centered attire and the donning of his designer shades. 'Looking good never felt so good.' Tony raised his arms with his trademarkly traditional and intentionally ironic peaces signs, greeting the throng of media and news reporters. No one seemed to notice the researcher in the white lab coat following Tony Stark out of the board room with a clip board in hand and a question on the tip of his tongue._

"_Yes, I'll allow photographs, no, I won't sign anything," Tony presumptuously curtailed the reporters._

"_Excuse me, Mr. Stark?" The somewhat sheepish man tried to grab his boss's attention, his voice being completely drowned out by the shouts of the reporters._

"_Mr. Stark!"_

"_Yes, sweetheart," Tony addressed a young female reporter in the low-cut top._

"_Is it true you plan to unveil your company's latest creation at the U.S. Air Force Base next month?" The busty reporter elbowed her way closer, the microphone that seemed a natural extension of her slender arm extending forward to catch Tony's response._

"_I'd tell you if I could. Military classification and all that, you understand," Tony smirked confidently, never moving to remove his sunglasses for the innumerable photographs._

"_Mr. Stark! Who would you say made the greatest contributions to this latest creation?"_

"_Of course, there's no underplaying the superiority of Stark Industries' crack research and development team," Tony proclaimed proudly, "but it's also been a tradition of this company that the owner and CEO, yours truly, plays a central and integral part in the development of every project. So as for your question about the greatest contributor, that would be me."_

_The expression of the young researcher poised behind Tony darkened in response to Tony's careless remarks. 'Wouldn't he feel like an idiot if he knew I was standing right behind him,' the researcher thought. So he spoke up, "Excuse me, Mr. Stark." Trevor tapped Tony on the shoulder, "You were asking for ideas on the next project, I think I may have something here that you might be interested in." There, it was done. Now Tony knew that his words weren't heard only by the mindless paparazzi, but also by one of his lead researchers._

_Much to Trevor's dismay, Tony didn't even blink at the thought. He_must've_known, but he didn't care. "'I think,' 'I may,' 'I might,'" Tony mockingly repeated some phrasings of Trevor's statement, "You see, this is why I'm needed just as much in the research and development as anywhere else in my company: confidence." Tony snatched up the clipboard from Trevor's hands, "I never need to ask for ideas from anyone," Tony corrected Trevor further while glancing over the outlines on the clipboard, "and this would undoubtedly be a step backwards –but then, that's why you're on a team instead of running your own company, isn't it?" It was obvious that Tony's deliberate tear down of Trevor's research was retaliation for the researcher's attempt at humiliating the CEO. It was excessively cruel and unnecessary, but Tony wouldn't allow for the smallest transgressions, especially in front of the media._

_Trevor was infuriated, "You wouldn't know ingenuitive design if it hit you in the ass!"_

_Tony paused and peered over his sunglasses, "Fired." Turning back to the media, he said, "No further questions. IF there's anything else, feel free to contact Miss Potts, she'd be happy to direct them elsewhere."_

_Trevor was stunned, watching Tony's retreating back, "You can't be serious..."_

"_Security, this man is trespassing. Remove him," Tony waved his hand in Trevor's general direction before disappearing into his the backseat of his Rolls Royce._

"Do you have any idea what happened to me after that?" Trevor snarled at Tony's pained and bloody form on the floor. "You publicly denounced my entire career! You humiliated me, and fired me in front of the entire scientific community! No one would hire Tony Stark's undesirables. I was unemployed, out of a job and out of a life. It was only after I was fired, only when I lost my house and was forced to move back in with my mother, did I discover that you were my blood relation."

Steve heard the story, part of him didn't want to believe it but he knew that Tony could be a heartless jerk, had been. He closed his eyes and shook his head, "Oh Tony..." He'd always said to the genius 'I hope your bad habits catch up to you' or similar statements, but this was too much.

Tony heaved for breath on the floor, trying to fight off a panic induced hysteria. He was suffering from sensory overload –the pain was beginning to be too much again, Tony wanted nothing more than to scratch at his infected eye and his self control that knew better was wearing thin. There was dried blood everywhere, and the man formerly referred to as H.S. was screaming at him. "I'm sorry! Is that what you want to hear? I've changed! You must've seen the news... I'm a different person now, I swear. I admit that I've said and done some terrible things-"

"It's too little too late, Tony," Trevor cut him off, grinding his heel down into Tony's wrist again. "I don't want your apologies. I want you to suffer. You're societies harbinger of a technological age, so what better forms of torture than those of medieval times?" Trevor stepped off of Tony's arm, which he quickly recoiled to his chest. The man paced around Tony, pausing to brutally kick him in the back, again in the legs, and again and again. "No, I just want you to hurt. Nothing else will do."

Tony choked back a sob –this couldn't be right. He remembered everything! He answered Trevor's questions, apologized for his mistakes! It should be over, that was the answer and he had it. But that was never what it was about. Tony didn't know why it mattered to Trevor that he remember him, and he supposed that it probably didn't matter. Nothing mattered, because nothing they did or said would change a damn thing.

'_There it is.'_ Steve thought dismally, the thing he knew from the start. Trevor was just looking to hurt someone, just out for pain and torture and hoping someone else would suffer like he had with the humiliation. "Do you really feel better?" He asked, keeping the tone of anger at bay and letting the adult in him speak instead. He was always better at that. "Does hurting Tony fix anything for you? Trevor, you're still young, you can always get back up. Heck, I'm sure there are rival companies looking to take Stark Industries down, why didn't you join them? It's not over until you give up; you can still turn around, Trevor." Not a single fibre in Steve's mind or body truly believed that this man would stop even after hearing those words from him. It was never that easy and it never worked out that way but he had to try, there was no harm in attempting reason first.

Granted Steve still knew that even if they were let down he'd still punch the little jerk-off in the face.

Trevor brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, loosened in his frenzy, and adjusted his fedora hat. He turned a steely gaze on Steve, "You have no idea how the corporate world works, Mr. Rogers. You're making up these very suggestions on the spot, with your only references being Hollywood movies and romanticized drama." Trevor stepped closer to Steve and lifted a hand on the soldier's mangled shoulder. "You're nothing but a big-talking fool." Trevor pulled down on the strained joint, feeling the pulling and popping in the shoulder cuff, and relishing in the thought of the ripping flesh bound by the barbed wire above.

Steve couldn't help the wrecked groan that slipped from his lips as he tried to clench his jaw through the pain, "You know," He stared down at the man he was starting to see more like an escaped asylum patient, "I didn't watch much more than war movies back in my day." He was more aware now that there really was nothing he could say to this man that would stop the madness from ensuing.

"I think that's quite enough for one day," Trevor gave a quick pull at his coat lapels, straightening his suit ever so slightly. He rummaged through his pocket and retrieved his mobile device, again activating the nearby drones. "I'll see you fine gentlemen another time." Trevor took his leave through the open metal doors while the drones dragged Tony off the concrete floor and fastened him to the table once more.

Blue eyes closed slowly as he tried not to watch his friend's trembling form returned again to his restraints. He'd hoped Trevor might have forgotten and left Tony free. Of course they'd never catch a break, especially not this early.


	6. Chapter 6: Water and Nails

**Zafona's note:**

**Wow chapter 6... Here we are lol A few reviews here and there, that's fine, thank you to the ones that are giving your feedback, we appreciate you guys most of all XD**

**Some of my readers have heard this one before but I'll say it again because I like the analogy; reading a story without giving feedback is like walking into someone's house and eating the food they made for you, all special like, and not saying a word until you're done eating and leaving in silence. It's sad for the person who made you food. Matsu and I really enjoy the reviews guys and I'm not beyond begging here XD**

**Also, more warnings ahead, this chapter in particular made me really cringe.**

**Matsu's Notes:**

**I took a lot of time on this chapter, because it is uncomfortable as fuck. This is a repost, and I do believe we've lost readers on this chapter due to its graphic nature. Enjoy the pain. ~Cheers**

* * *

"It's now been over a week since the mysterious disappearance of CEO billionaire of Stark Industries, the self-made man Tony Stark, from the opening ceremonies of the 2012 Stark Expo. We'd like to thank all of our online viewers who submitted their mobile videos of the incident." The reporter was a short blonde woman with a pretty face and slender limbs. The reports on the incident had begun to slow, the sensationalism of the event fading from front page news to a small column somewhere in the business or crime section. "Analysis of the video clearly shows a passenger on the second drone, and eye witnesses claim that this man is no other than Captain Steve Rogers. The only official statement we have received is from Stark Industries acting CFO, Pepper Potts."

The film was rolling, and cameras were flashing. Pepper stood behind Stark's podium, fronted by an array of microphones. She quietly cleared her throat and began to speak in a strong, assertive voice, "At this time there is little to release on the status of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. Their disappearances from the opening ceremonies were not planned, but we have reason to believe that they are safe." There was a swarm of questions then, many to the effect of 'but how do you know?' or 'where?' Pepper avoided any further statements, knowing far better than to allow herself to be dragged into a conversation in which she had no answers. Without skipping a beat, she moved on to the topic on the agenda.

"Even with Tony Stark's absence and the initial disruption at the ceremonies, the 2012 Stark Expo was a great success. The week long event featured many of our latest advancements in clean, green renewable energy resources. Despite the initial shut down, our show piece the arc reactor was a major success with international ambassadors and major corporate figureheads..."

It was a doozy of a press conference, and Pepper was nothing short of grateful when the menagerie finally ended. She kept the focus on the positive, the business, and the success of the Expo. It was nothing phenomenal, and the interference with police and security really made it s tense atmosphere, more so than originally planned. But all in all it wasn't a total failure, and nothing exploded or killed anyone. There was just the minor fib about Tony and Steve being safe. Pepper had no doubt that they were alive –or, at least they would have been kept alive for their first few days of what she could only imagine to be captivity. Any enemy of Tony Stark would have much preferred to kill him publically, and not go through the pains of abducting him. So Pepper had no reason to believe that they were dead, at least not a few days ago. By now the trail was running cold, and she didn't feel like they were any closer to finding her missing boss and house guest than they were when it happened.

Pepper rode the Stark Tower elevator back up to the research lab that Bruce and herself had squared away for their investigation, tiredly rubbing her temples in soothing circles. A quiet ring announced her arrival to the floor, and she quickly made her way over to the good doctor and the two diligent master assassins.

Bruce glanced up at her and thought he should say something, anything to make her feel better. She'd promptly lied about Tony and Steve, letting the press know more of what she hoped was true than what really was. It bothered him to see it, that she was left worried and scared about the two missing men, because he and the other two hadn't found anything. Bruce looked back down, avoiding her gaze as it lit up at the sight of them all.

"Natasha's back!" Pepper exclaimed, her hopefulness getting the better of her. "Did you find anything? Any leads? Suspects?"

Natasha opened her mouth moment but closed it soon after, joining Bruce in the lowered gaze. She didn't have to say anything to get the point across, really, just that simple action told it all. Looking for a week straight, hunting and searching and coming up with absolutely nothing. Bruce had started this completely certain they could find the culprit though the longer they took to find them the harder it was to continue. And Natasha wasn't even sure they'd still be alive after that many days.

Clint placed a comforting hand on Nat's shoulder to reassure her that she hadn't failed as miserably as he knew she'd be reprimanding herself for. "Nothing we didn't already know," he offered sadly. "We were right about the airspace – no one reported or recorded any unusual or illegal presence in the U.S. airspace around New York at the time of the abductions or any time after. Street surveillance cameras offered some glimpses of the machines, but due to their poor quality and the speed of those replicas, the images are blurry at best."

Clint walked over to a large street map of New York proper, and the surrounding suburbs. "What we do know is that they took off in this general direction, east, toward Brooklyn. What I've been able to tell so far is that there's no evidence that they crossed the Williamsburg Bridge, so they should still be somewhere in the Lower East side Manhattan." Clint looked up at the others to make sure they still followed. He wasn't concerned about Natasha, or Bruce so much, but Pepper was a different story, and if there was anything Clint had learned in the past week it was that she needed to have the big picture, needed to know the details.

Pepper nodded, affirming that she was indeed still following the progression. "So they're in the city, and they didn't fly away. Do you think it's possible that they may have gone underground?"

"Probably only for transportation," Bruce added tiredly, "My guess is that since the sewer system is pretty large and he could manoeuvre down there easily enough he probably had an escape route planned that would lead him somewhere away from prying eyes. At this point knowing he went underground to get somewhere doesn't help much of anything." Bruce watched the way everyone's faces fell, even the assassin's had their little moment as much as they'd never admit it. "However," he raised a hand and briefly wandered from his little stationed area to stretch his legs, "When I talked to some of the guards about the incident when it happened they were pretty shocked but I went back to see some of them again yesterday."

"Any new info or did they just waste your time?" Natasha asked curtly, her nerves a little frayed from her own failed mission. "Wait; don't tell me, he said he took an arrow in the knee, didn't he?"

Bruce chuckled and shook his head, "Actually one of them remembered a man from the crowd, said he looked really familiar and for a moment thought he was Tony."

"And?"

"And obviously it wasn't because Tony was backstage tripping over cables." Bruce was fairly calm, he motioned toward a floating screen and pulled it over, hitting a few things before a file came up. "He remembered the man's name, Trevor Hudson, and I figured it was worth looking into. Apparently Mr. Hudson," he spun the screen around to show them the image and file records, "was an employee at one point. Fired."

Pepper leaned in closer, staring at the image in front of her, trying to analyze the features. He looked familiar alright, had Tony's eyes and everything. But he was familiar outside of that, and she recognized the name.

Bruce then pulled up the news coverage of several years back, the same lab-coated man talking back to Tony in front of everyone. "Seems he made the mistake of challenging Tony in a public place."

Pepper nodded, "Yes, I remember him. He was one of the head developers in R&D. He was always incredibly brilliant with his work, but he didn't play well with others –credit where credit is due, and all of that." Pepper stared at the still screen from the news coverage, "He was very bitter with Tony for that, and tried every legal rout possible to sue for employer misdemeanour, employee rights etc. He was given a handsome severance package, and the judge was an old drinking buddy of Tony's, so it never went anywhere. I hadn't heard of him since."

"Figures..." Natasha sighed. "So we have a possible suspect?"

"Maybe." Bruce nodded, "Though he could have just been there to stare angrily at a man he hated."

"Because we all do that on a regular basis." She shook her head, "Alright, I'll start looking to see if I can find him in residency anywhere."

* * *

Tony's head ached, partially from the dehydration, but primarily due to the persistent high pitch frequency that was being emitted from unseen speakers. He couldn't remember when it had began, but he was certain that since it had, it hadn't stopped. It was something like a blend of white noise and dial tone, and Tony had spent hours trying to decipher them as though they were a code or cryptograph, to no avail.

Steve wished more than anything he could plug his ears or stuff them with something, anything to make the awful sound stop. Tony randomly babbled something about what he thought it might mean and the soldier hadn't the heart to inform his friend that he was starting to sound a little insane himself. However he preferred the sound of Tony's voice and even encouraged the rambling once in a while, just to get the relief of hearing the rough tenor of Tony's vocal chords vibrating. Of course he couldn't really ask the genius to continue talking forever; it'd be a little unfair.

Tony had lost all measure of time since Trevor's departure. The windows were boarded up tight, so that not even the slightest streams of light shone through. The factory fluorescent lights hung high above them, a constant glow of harsh blue-white light and their low buzzing reminders of their unnatural, manmade origins. It could have been days, or weeks – but exactly how many of either Tony had no way of knowing. They hadn't spoken much in the past while, having nothing really left to say. Tony was tired, but sleep didn't come easy to him. His biometric rhythms were horribly out of sync without the rising and the setting sun, or the passing of regular feeding intervals. That was another thing that disrupted his sleep –hunger.

Steve could hear his teammate's stomach from where he hung and it only served to increase his own internal noises, continually reminding him that he needed food. A body that burns through nutrients four times faster also needed to eat nearly that much more often. He knew starving to death for himself would still take much much longer than it would for Tony but that didn't change the fact that his body groaned louder and more insistently. He could only imagine the sound was as annoying for Tony as it was for him.

It must've been at least three days since they'd last seen their captor, and Tony felt the pangs of starvation roiling in his gut. At first he hadn't noticed, hadn't the appetite for anything in the face of so much pain and gore. But after a time, the body knows that it needs sustenance and aches for it. Tony sincerely doubted that he would be able to keep a meal down, even if it was provided to them –the stench that they'd created was humiliatingly atrocious. For days on end they were held there with no reprieve, and there was only so long a man could hold his bladder and bowls. It was disgusting to think about, worse to realize you weren't alone.

Tony wished more than anything he could retreat into himself and never come back out. There was something just so inherently _wrong_ with incontinence, a social taboo so ingrained in your psyche it made your stomach churn at the thought of it. It was something to be ashamed of, something to hide, and here he was in the same room as Captain America. Tony tried to tell himself it was only natural, that it couldn't be helped, but it did little to quell the burning in his skin. He was disgusted with himself, with his current state, with his own lack of ability to do anything about it.

The soldier had also made a point of never mentioning it, if he'd even paused to think about it, it was hard to tell. Of course, Tony couldn't hear the sounds of Steve's mind every time his body betrayed him, doing everything in his power to stop it. One might think Captain America's muscles were strong enough to hold that back and most of the time they were though the pain it caused was terrible and he evidently had to let it go. Steve felt even a little worse knowing that he had to make the conscious decision to allow his body release, Tony couldn't help it but he could, sort of.

The stench of the room had grown bad enough that it would cause those with weak stomachs to wretch, and what's worse, it attracted insects. The building was old and poorly insulated, with innumerable entries for the scuttling vermin. Flies settled on their bodies by the dozens, and it was all either of them could do to thrash to try and shoo them off. They only came back again.

Tony's good eye burned from the ammonia fumes, and his left itched from the inflammation of infection. Far too much time had passed since receiving the injury to acquire medical attention. It wasn't healing properly –Tony could _feel_ that it wasn't burning properly. It was a small mercy that his hands were tied; he didn't want to know how badly he'd be scratching at it if they weren't. "Steve," Tony's voice cracked, his throat dry and parched with thirst. "No one's coming for us, are they?" He sounded dejected: defeated.

Steve flinched when he tried again to jerk the bugs from himself, again failing and realizing that he really shouldn't wiggle around too much, even if he thought he could. His wrists had healed and been cut open and healed again and all the way around back and forth, his skin was formed over the barbed wire several times. In fact he was certain the wire had cut into his bone, he wondered if it was fused with the marrow briefly before the thought sickened him. Tony's tone of voice wasn't helping any though Steve knew he had to try and be stronger for the weaker of the two of them. He had to be, he was Captain America, and the captain was never scared. "They're coming," Steve heard himself saying, his voice tired but still determined. Where had that come from? "Remember you promised me, Tony." He looked over at the table, "I told you it was going to get worse and I told you that they _are_coming, just..." he shook his head and looked down with narrowed eyes, "Be patient."

Patient? Patience was a luxury and Steve could feel that if he waited too long, if they waited for a rescue and he just sat around doing nothing, Tony wouldn't make it. Waiting was a luxury. They couldn't allow themselves any of those. He needed a plan; he needed to get Tony out, to get himself out. _'Think, Rogers. Think damn it!'_ He could feel his eyes burning and the sting of tears behind them, his mind was still as blank now as it had been the first day and it was driving him crazy. He couldn't figure out a way to save their lives when he needed to, he was failing them. But he could never say it; it wouldn't help to say it. "I'll figure this out, okay?"

Tony stayed very still, he always stayed still –the less he moved, the less aware of his ache and pains, injuries and wounds, he had to be. He nodded and whispered softly, "I believe you, Steve." Tony knew his promise, knew that he couldn't let go as long as Steve didn't. What the hell had he been thinking when he'd promised that? '_Oh yeah sure, no problem: I'll just keep up with Captain-freakin'-America in the face of death and dismemberment_.' People didn't always call him a genius.

It felt like an eternity had passed before Trevor returned. The white noise frequency cut out suddenly, and the metal doors slid open. The man walked in with his robots shadowing him, both carrying nozzled hoses. "And we meet again," Trevor smirked, self-impressed. "What a mess the two of you have made of yourselves!" he exclaimed, raising a hand to cover his mouth and nose from the putrid scent. "I couldn't possibly get to work on you both while you're so filthy." With a snap of his fingers, the two robots moved in, angling the hoses at the two bound captives, and opened fire.

It was a pressure washer, bearing down on them with a concentrated icy spray. The robots were meticulous in their task, and the water seemed to not just wash away the dirt, but tear it clean off the skin. The pressure of the spray left reddened welts in its wake, hot from the friction and frigid from the water. The spray back in the face was the worst, trying not to drown while still acquiring water to quench days of thirst. Tony couldn't help the pained cry that tore from his throat as the water ripped away the healing scabs over the burns on his face. The added pressure from the spray only served to further irritate the already swollen mass that was his decrepit left eye.

Steve would have offered his support to his teammate if he could have managed it, but he was also attempting not to drown from the harsh spray back in his face. He wanted to drink it because he was thirsty, he didn't want to because he knew what was in the water residue, it was a mix of emotions but survival won out. His body was pushed around severely from the force of it and he surprised himself with his mangled scream joining Tony's. His shoulders popped back out of place if they'd ever gotten back to the right position at all, he could feel the wire tugging around on or in his bones and making a new mess.

Trevor didn't call the robots off, allowing this treatment to continue for hours on end. He paused only momentarily to check that they were both still conscious.

"Now that we have you all cleaned up, let's get to work shall we?" Trevor looked to the robot attending to Steve, "Cut him down and bind him to the rack!"

The soldier opened his eyes again and shook his head, "No no no wait! Wait-AH!" He threw his head back when his restraints came undone, the metallic things ripping the wire from his arms and tearing out of the enclosed muscle and flesh. "Ahhhnnn..." Steve's face was scrunched in pain as his arms dropped, the numbness and shock reverberating up into his shoulders and all along his torso. His mind tried to get back into gear, to focus again and when he did he heard his own voice whining softly, his breath as he gasped from the agony in his limbs. He only got a moment's reprieve, however, as the machine strapped him down again. The rack. Steve knew enough about Medieval times to know what was coming to him. He closed his eyes and laid his head back, thinking maybe he could sleep now. He hadn't been able to since getting into this situation, his arms had hurt too much and then that grating noise had started. Steve had gotten maybe a few hours of sleep total during the last week or so. His internal clocks were messed up; he hoped it had only been a week.

Tony watched in a sort of mortified trance as Steve fell to the ground, his wrists shredded and limp. He could have sworn he saw white through all of that blood. '_He'll bleed out_!' Tony panicked momentarily, it faintly occurred to him that Steve's body would probably counteract it, shut down other functions to focus on blood replenishment, he hadn't bled out after days on end, he wouldn't now. Or at least, that's what Tony would like to have believed.

"While he's getting comfortable," Trevor casually strolled towards Tony, and around the table out of sight before reappearing on Tony's left side. It bothered Tony –unnerved him more than he was willing to admit just how uncomfortable it was to have a blindspot, to know that a man is standing right there, in his periphery, but not see. '_I guess I'll have to ask Fury where he got that eye patch_,' Tony thought dryly. "Why don't we get you started," Trevor said it with a smile, and started cranking the lever back on the table support, adjusting the surface Tony was strapped to until he was again level on his back. Then further still, until Tony was strapped to the table at an incline, his head angled toward the ground.

"How'd you like the wash down? Had enough of water yet?" His tone was smug, and he was moving around at Tony's side. Tony didn't know what he was doing, but a feeling of dread was curdling in his stomach: whatever it was, it could not be good.

Tony didn't want to answer, didn't know how to answer. The pressure blasting was bad enough; he just wanted to avoid further pain and humiliation. He turned his head to the side to try and get a better look at Trevor's activities. It didn't look like anything too sinister, just a few cloths and a bucket of water. Tony could see a problem if the bucket indeed contained not water, but an acid of some sort. He swallowed hard, "What do you plan to do with us?" His eye darted from the bucket to the man, his mind still in turmoil from the recent and ongoing distress. Ever since the white noise really set in Tony's thoughts had been a blur, disconjointed and nonsensical, and that in itself was a reason for distress.

"The same thing I've already been doing to you, until we get to a point where you no longer scream, because you are either dead, or too broken to be bothered." Trevor put down whatever tool it was he was looking over, and turned back to Tony, "Now, let's get you strapped in." Tony was momentarily confused, and tried to move his head away as Trevor reached for him. This only earned him a jarring slap in the face, and Trevor proceeded to strap a leather belt over Tony's forehead, which was threaded through two slits in the board, and tightened it almost painfully taut. Tony tried to wriggle around to loosen it, his only reward being an unpleasant pulling along the side of his neck. "You won't be wanting to do too much of that thrashing around, it's really not going to help." Trevor grabbed one of the cloths from the side table and draped it over Tony's face.

Tony's body immediately tensed, his heart skipped a beat, and began to race as a cold sweat broke out across his face. The small, nearly muted voice in his mind surmised that he was experiencing a panic attack. His mind flashed in a blur of images, memories from the days before. The lights! They'd never turned off, never gone off once. His damaged left eye was always detecting the light, even when his right was closed, even while he was asleep. The cloth covered both eyes, the cloth blotted out the light. He couldn't see. Even with both eyes opened, he couldn't see. Tony hated blindness, and now he feared it. The cloth transformed into a heavy iron bar in his mind, covering his eyes, pinning his head down in place. Tony's arms flexed as they strained against the manacles, his legs twitched and pulled as they did the same. His breathing sped up to keep up with the increased oxygen consumption of his rapidly beating heart, sending Tony into a state of hyperventilation.

His eye was burning. He could feel it all over again, like it was happening in that very instant. He could feel the surface of his skin heating with the iron blindfold, he could smell the burning of flesh –_his_ flesh, as though it were all real. Tony thrashed on the table again, and let out a long, hoarse scream, before everything was suddenly very different. He still couldn't see, but it didn't burn –it was wet and _freezing_. The perceived rapid temperature change shocked his system, and he came up short of air. His screams fell silent and open mouthed as his body unconsciously and desperately gulped in more air through the cloth over his face.

But there was no air to breathe. The cloth was soaked with the ice water, and he couldn't breathe. Tony choked and tried to cough, inhaling more liquids and less oxygen with every gulp. He panicked again, writhing and yanking at the manacles with abandon. The iron bonds were unyielding, and in Tony's loss of presence of mind, the edges of the binds cut into his pliant skin and drew blood. But Tony couldn't be bothered to care _because he was drowning_.

The pouring water stopped, and though the cloth was not removed Tony finally felt as though he could breathe again. His choking coughs subsided into ragged breathing, his chest heaving from the effort. He passed through another coughing fit, after which his body lay limp on the table top. Everything hurt, from his ankles to his wrists, to the leather band strapped across his forehead and the irritation caused by the cloth lying against his open and festering eye.

"What are you made of?" Trevor chided, his voice dragging Tony's mind back to the realm of conscious awareness. "Did you know that the record for survived waterboarding by a single individual is well over 200? What do you think you will survive?" Trevor smiled again, and looked over to Steve, now uncomfortably stretched across the rack, pinned upright in place. "Care to place a bet, captain?"

Steve hadn't missed the spectacle, his heart pounding as he watched someone he cared about nearly die, again and again he remembered the face of his best friend as he failed him, failed to reach him, failed to save him. And now he could hear Tony's gurgled screams, watch his chest heave sporadically and know he couldn't save him. Watching Tony nearly die and knowing it'd happen again, part of Steve could see the breaking point, could see where he too would fracture. The soldier pushed it away and shook his head, "Don't." His voice was controlled though the hint of fear was evident, as much as he tried to hide it. Steve swallowed thickly, "Don't panic Tony, try to stay calm alright? The less you panic the better off you'll be." He wanted to give advice, wanted to say 'you'll be fine, I'll kick their butts and we'll be out of here' but he couldn't say anything remotely helpful other than 'don't panic.'

Although Tony couldn't say that he understood at the time, couldn't honestly convince himself that Steve was even speaking to him at all, he understood that Steve was _there_, and that Steve hadn't given up yet, that Steve was still comforting him. It was a sort of thing Tony knew unconsciously, like a significant psychological underpinning in the torrent of terror he was experiencing.

Trevor continued implementing the drowning simulation for a few more hours, before passing off the role to one of the droids. A simple enough task for any programmed machine, to pour water and stop after a set period of time. It actually made the torture more bearable for Tony, knowing that the machine had regular intervals. It had to be regular, it was programming. Knowing when to expect the water allowed him to prepare for it, however modest those psychological preparations were. Tony knew that he wasn't drowning, in a purely logical sense. The physiological and unconscious response however, was far more dire and uncontrollable, but again, without the uncertainty of irregularity in their occurrence Tony felt marginally safer.

In the mean while, Trevor drifted around Steve's bound form with a knife in hand. He poked and prodded at Steve's helpless form, leaving shallow stab wounds in his wake. "How are you holding up?" Trevor asked casually, continuing to stab at the prone captain. "Did you think I forgot about you? That I'd lost interest in you simply because of your resilience? No, no I have plans in store for you."

Steve winced every time the blade pierced him, he wanted to steel his gaze, glare and snarl again but he was exhausted. The best he could manage at that moment was a tired and pained narrowing of his eyes. "I'm not going to assume anything with you." He said flinching and trying hard not to make a noise though he knew small and noticeable grunts were escaping him. "What kinds of plans?" Steve figured it was stupid to ask but it never hurt to try and get an answer and try to get himself ready for it.

Trevor stopped with the knifing then, wiping the blade clean and placing it back on his medical trolley. "You know, I've done my research. I know a fair bit about you, the famous first Avenger. I had to, really," Trevor lifted a small pick and inspected it in the light, "I had to be prepared for anything when abducting Tony Stark. You were an obvious candidate for a reckless rescue attempt, so bringing you here was no great surprise."

Blue eyes watched firmly, staring at the pick with some concern. He heard himself swallow, his limbs starting to tremble a little. As much as he wanted to say 'don't be scared' to himself he found it difficult not to be. Though considering he knew his voice would be shaky and the fear would be obvious, he decidedly said nothing to that.

Trevor removed his cap and placed it on the second level of the trolley before picking up a pair of green latex gloves and putting them on. "I'm especially intrigued with your healing abilities. Have you ever tested them? I mean truly tested your extremes? Think of it this way: I'm really doing you a favour. Without proper tests, how can you really know your limits? Or your true potential? If you survive, you'll know exactly how far you can go, how much you can tolerate. Isn't that an exciting and worthy venture?" Trevor moved then to Steve's bound hands, spread open and pinned across the top of his knuckles as well as bound at the wrist.

Steve's heart thundered and he struggled against the bonds, hand twitching and trying desperately to move away from the psychopath in front of him. "Stop! You don't need to test anything, I know my limits!" His words were clearly ignored; he wished he could ignore how hard it was becoming to breathe. _'Try being Tony. Suck it up, Rogers.'_

Trevor lifted the index finger of Steve's right hand and looked it over, "You have very fine skin, soft hands for a warrior." An idea occurred to him then, and he continued to pull Steve's finger back. He felt the pull of the tendons and when the finger met resistance from bending too far back. Trevor continued pulling, curious to see how Steve's body would react.

A quickly cut off shout ruptured from Steve as he pressed his head against the back of the rack and squeezed his eyes shut, dealing with the pain as best he could, pushing back as hard as he could to stop the pressure from breaking anything.

It came as no surprise to Trevor that Steve could still flex his finger back down. It brought a new meaning to the expression "more strength in my little finger" than the man had previously considered. "No matter, that wasn't my intention." Trevor grabbed Steve's finger a second time and placed the tip of the pick under Steve's nail bed. "You might feel a slight pinching sensation," Trevor joked as he picked up a mallet from the trolley's stainless steel surface. He pulled back and dropped the head of the hammer against the blunt end of the pick, driving the slab of metal under Steve's finger nail and separating it from the end of his finger.

The action earned a sharp cry and whine from the captain, his jaw clenching tightly and arms tensing and pulling at their bindings. It was a quick and awful paint but over swiftly, leaving a dull, burning throb in its wake. He exhaled forcefully and tried to ready himself, staring down firmly at the wannabe-Stark though he really just wanted to retract his hand and hide it.

"One down, nine to go." Trevor proceeded the tedious process of denailing Steve's every digit, placing the pick beneath the nail and tapping the hammer against it. Tap, tap, pop. Trevor pulled the nail from Steve's bleeding cuticle, and dropped it in the metal receptacle on the trolley. And repeat.

"Now let's make a record here," Trevor pulled a clipboard from the second level of the trolley and retrieved a pen from an inside coat pocket. "2 a.m., completed the removal of all 10 fingernails. Regrowth time for the average human spans from two to six weeks. Estimated regrowth for Steve Rogers, approximately one quarter of the time, from three to eleven days," Trevor clicked the pen again, placing it back in his pocket and replaced the clipboard on the trolley.

Steve moaned softly as he wiggled his fingers, each one feeling worse than the next. He knew at least it was 2 in the morning, what day he didn't know, but if his fingernails grew back before they escaped he had a feeling they weren't going to be able to get out. He now had a countdown, looking at the ragged flesh at the tips of his fingers. His stomach churned and if he had eaten anything he was certain he would have thrown it up.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Since the regrowth time is significantly quicker, it would be boring to allow it to run its course without some sort of obstacle. Granted, I'll be missing a control sample, but what the heck, right? You only live once." Trevor retrieved a small box from the trolley, simply labelled 'sharps' and pulled a package from the box. "Hold still now, not like you've had much of a choice." Returning the box to the trolley, Trevor pulled the first syringe needle point from it. The needle was designed as a disposable for syringes, and had a thin tube through the middle of it, as well as an incredible sharp tip. With mallet in hand, Trevor returned to Steve's right hand first and lined the needle point up with the center of his exposed nail bed before driving the needle through, and out his finger pad into the wood of the rack below.

He screamed outright that time, the sensitive skin hot with pain and even worse now. Steve smacked his head back against the rack with his face twisted in agony, part of him surprised that so much pain could come from such a tiny part of his body. He groaned and cried out each time the mallet came down, tears stinging his eyes further and escaping down his cheeks, betraying his attempts to remain strong. He could feel the wet tickling trail and cursed under his breath, though, again, nothing that could be considered all that offensive to anyone in that particular era.

Steve opened his eyes once it was done, his chest heaving, face still pulled in a grimace. His gasping choked into a subtle laugh and he shook his head, "You know, they hammered nails and things into a man once." He looked at Trevor as a smile crossed his lips, a bitter but slightly amused one. "Right through his hands and he hung there for a long time. You wanna know what happened with him?" Steve didn't really let Trevor answer, didn't actually plan on giving him a moment. "The weight of the world rested on him, he cried out in pain, betrayal, fear, but he never gave up because he knew someone was coming for him. And in the end someone did, and he went home." It was a mild comfort but Steve felt a lot better just saying it.

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**READ THIS:**

******This account is made up of Zafona and Touta Matsuda together. This is a repost of OUR OWN FIC. **


	7. Chapter 7: The Calm Before The Storm

**Matsu's Notes:**

**Since Zaf is a kind soul that weeps silently as I drag her through the gore, she's slipped in some fluff for those of you who like that sort of thing.**

**READ THIS:**

**This account is made up of Zafona and Touta Matsuda together. This is a repost of OUR OWN FIC. **

* * *

_Steve stared angrily down at the laptop Pepper had given him, his brow furrowing together then apart and again back together as he tried to figure the darn thing out. Pepper had told him that Tony insisted he have one, said that if he was going to get to know technology he'd better just jump right in. Steve didn't know what to do with the thing, computers, the way they were used in that era, hadn't even been unveiled in Steve's time. Not that he was paying attention though, kind of busy fighting and other things._

_Regardless, here he was with a laptop open, it had been set up for him and now he could do what he wanted with it. Apparently Pepper had taken it upon herself to add his favourite novels onto it and a bunch more she thought he should read. Internet access had been granted and he could get online whenever he pleased. Movies that were dubbed important to the last 70 years had also been put somewhere on the hard drive, clearly the thing was meant for him to use it as a way to__catch__up with reality._

_He didn't like it. Steve closed the thing and left it on the coffee table, picking up his sketchbook again and wandering to Tony's workshop. He found himself heading that way a lot though he often felt uneasy about it and left before he actually entered it. This time he wanted to go inside, go talk to the billionaire and possibly distract him from working so hard. Then again, Tony would probably expect him to have the laptop in hand and using it, considering it was a gift,__state__of the art and all the things Steve didn't want. He sighed heavily and went to retrieve it, carrying it along with his sketchbook to show that he had it at least. He smiled to himself, maybe today would be the day he told him, when he was awake this time._

"_Tony?" Steve called into the room as he entered, not caring that his arrival was alerted with a ding, he was allowed to announce himself if he wanted to. He heard two voices a little further inside and noticed Bruce sitting beside Tony, leaning over him from behind to point out different whatevers on their work. Steve shifted awkwardly and thought he might have to leave, interrupting 'science time' didn't go well usually. He glanced down at the laptop in his hand and felt a sinking in his chest, he wasn't telling Tony anything today, it seemed._

"_Hey cap." Bruce glanced up with a smile, noticing the technology in the man's arms and raised an eyebrow, "Having trouble?"_

_Steve frowned and shook his head, "No, it's fine." He said defensively. "Just because I'm carrying it doesn't mean I'm having problems with it."_

_Tony bit back a laugh at the captain's expense. He seemed like such a child at times, more stubborn than one would originally imagine. Tony didn't blame Bruce for the assessment; to Tony it seemed more like an observation than an assumption._

_Both of Bruce's eyebrows lifted and he glanced down at Tony then back at the furious looking captain, "Right. Sorry, I was just going with the pattern of... never mind. How are you liking it?"_

_Steve glanced down at the hunk of metal in his arms and shrugged, "I'm not really." He looked at Tony for a moment then back at Bruce and finally down to their work table. "I'm interrupting; I'll let you get back to... that..." He stiffly turned around and walked out, lifting the laptop and his sketchbook to softly bonk himself in the face before disappearing into the elevator._

_Tony wasn't sure if he should feel offended or guilty. On the one hand, he'd gone out of his way to prepare the laptop for Steve; had it outfitted with the best of the best with all the bells and whistles. He'd even been the one to add all the movies and other subtly educational things, demanding Pepper never reveal his more intimate involvement with it. She'd asked him 'so then who did put that there?' and he'd simply told her to take the credit. He'd even made sure the damn thing was running his own home made Unix OS to make it run as simply and smoothly as possible. So to have it go unappreciated seemed a waste, but on the other hand, Tony had known full well that he was forcing the item onto Steve, rather than actually gifting him with it._

"_Okay..." Bruce shrugged, "That was... weird."_

"_Very," Tony quickly agreed. He was sad to see Steve go, and even went so far as to realize that the man probably felt left out, like a third wheel. "He could have stayed..." Tony lamented aloud. He wished Steve would have stayed, they really didn't talk enough, not even by Tony's own standards, and he found himself frequently missing the man that he could just as easily walk upstairs and speak with. He never figured out why he didn't._

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Tony knew it would be awhile before they saw Trevor again when the white noise came back over the speakers, it's familiar high pitched ring piercing straight to his ears. It interfered with their sleep, and it interfered with their concentration. Combined with the ever-present and unchanging cold hue of the fluorescent lighting it was an effective form of sensory deprivation and sensory overload at the same time. Sleep was essential to functioning, basic thought, and healing. Without proper sleep cycles their biorhythms fell out of proper sync and affect a multitude of other bodily and cognitive functions. The world outside of this warehouse no longer existed to them, and their world within their confines was a blur.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah Tony?" Steve answered softly, his eyes closed and though he tried he still couldn't sleep.

"Nothing," in truth, Tony just wanted to hear Steve's voice. In the past few hours- days, weeks, it had somehow become increasingly important, urgent even, to know that his captain was there. It gave him an ounce of solace to know that he wasn't alone here, like Yinsen had given him in Afghanistan. Someone there to tell him to keep fighting, to remind him that there was a world out there, that as long as he was alive, there was still hope for a tomorrow. Steve didn't need to say all of that, Tony already knew Steve would tell him that if it's what he needed to hear. Steve's presence said it all, and as long as that man was still strong in spirit, Tony felt he could keep up his side of the bargain, keep the only promise he had with him, the only duty and responsibility that he had to anyone.

Steve glanced up; looking at Tony's strapped down form, knowing he looked basically the same. They both looked like hell, and that was being friendly. He smiled a little though it wasn't anywhere close to strong, he knew it too. "Just wanted to hear me say something, huh?" He asked just as softly as he had moments before. His voice was cracked and he could hear himself rasping and wondered really how comforting it was to hear him say anything at all. But talking meant he was alive, that must have been what Tony was angling for.

As much as the captain wanted to say something inspiring, something he could look back on and retell in stories, he was starting to think he might not be able to. His mind was a mess, the entire time trying to sleep or trying to find a way out. He failed. Tony was going to die first, he knew that much. He couldn't bear it, couldn't take the thought that someone was dying right in the same room as him and there was nothing he could do. He was helpless, useless, and _right there_ but he couldn't save Tony. A sob surprised him and he quickly bit back a wave he knew would follow, "I'm sorry, Tony." He said as steadily as he could, "I should have gotten us out of here already." He knew how it sounded, he knew it.

It sounded like he quit, and Tony didn't miss is. He stared across the room, his one brown eye large and searching, outlined by days worth of rings from sleeplessness. Steve couldn't quit, he'd promised that he wouldn't quit, for Tony, for both of them. "You don't have to be sorry," Tony offered, hopeful that Steve would stick around, that Steve would stick it through, "you don't have to be sorry: you just have to be strong."

Steve glanced up when he heard the desperation in Tony's voice, the fear that Steve would break down, give up, and let Tony's only hope of escape fail him even further. _'I can't do that you. I can't...'_ He thought as he grit his teeth, thinking of something better to say, something more encouraging. "We'll be okay." He reaffirmed as strongly as possible, "We'll get out of here." Steve knew very well that not once had he followed those statements with 'I promise' as of late.

Tony nodded slowly and repeated, "We'll be okay, we'll get out of here." His one eye remained fixed on Steve's while the other injured eye drifted its gaze about aimlessly. Without the aid of an eyelid and functioning tear duct to blink away the festering bacteria, a layer of pussing scab had enveloped most of Tony's left socket, his greyed-out eyeball free to float around within its liquid casing.

It hurt to hear Steve sound so weak, and even though it shouldn't have it truly surprised Tony. Steve was his shield, and that shield was breaking. Of course Steve wasn't invincible, he wasn't perfect and he wasn't immortal. Given the captain's super strengths, his torment had been that much more intense, that much more focused. Tony hardly had the faculties to form rational thought any longer, and all that really directed his thoughts were the baser emotions of his mid-brain structures. Emotions were the ruling force, and fear only lasted so long before it gave way to something else, something darker.

In the waves of confused and extreme emotion, there were the few strongest that stood out: anger at the injustice and fear of death. Anger gave way to frustration, and to feelings of helplessness and finally a persistent existence of hopelessness. Fear... well, fear of pain is like fear of the unknown, of the possibility. When pain has already visited you, and will assuredly visit you again, there is no unknown. When death ceases to be a probability and becomes a certainty, there is nothing left to fear. Only an end to desire. But Tony didn't long for death as he thought he would, and he knew there would never again be a 'normal' to return to. It was stupid, and it was illogical –but logic had already abandoned him, hadn't it? Without fear, without death, and without hope Tony had only one constant, and that was Steve. Since his capture at the Expo, Steve had been there. The very first episode of panic, Steve had talked him through, and every sting of pain and agony Steve lived through with him, and then some. Steve was his center.

And likewise for Steve, Tony was the only other person he could think about, was the only thing he cared about. Death and fear for himself aside, he could handle his own, what he couldn't handle was the thought of Tony suffering beside him. So close and yet so far away. Steve had had a lingering crush for a while already and though he'd never been able to say so to a conscious Tony, he felt they had a connection. It was unspoken most of the time and it was difficult to pinpoint in this mess, but he knew there was something between them before all of this. That something was only strengthened with the added anxiety and torment; he felt he not only wanted Tony to be with him, he needed it. He ached for the simplest of kind touches, just a little brush of the shoulder or even a nudge under a table. Anything other than a sharp object poking into him or something cold tying him down.

Steve didn't know if a right time or a right place was ever going to grace him. He wanted to make it special, to tell Tony how he felt in the soft comfort of their home in dimmed lighting. To feel the romanticism in it all and kiss him, hold him and... None of that seemed possible now, and he was feeling a strong urge to say it. He needed to say it. He wasn't sure if it was the desperation of his predicament, the yearning to hear something kind, or anything, he just knew he had to say it.

"Tony," Steve managed the name after a long pause, "I... can I tell you something?" He held his breath a little as he waited for Tony's answer, heart racing a little. He didn't often confess feelings, with Peggy it had remained an unspoken thing, he hadn't actually out right told someone 'I like you' but he was going to do it now.

Tony smiled weakly, "What's with the hesitation?" It was supposed to be a quip, it was supposed to a light-hearted, quick witted comment but all that came out was a quiet, flat statement-like question. Tony lamented his lack-lustre self, only one of many things he'd assuredly lost in the time passed. "Ask away."

"I've... I uh..." Steve laughed softly, shaking his head at his own awkwardness. "Now might be an awful time, but I like you." Now he really held his breath, looking up with a half smirk on his face.

And there was nothing more simple than that, was there? Tony supposed that he didn't see any point in dressing it up either. He laughed bitterly, "That's it, huh? Dying words already?" Tony couldn't help but wonder who the words were for, he was going to die first, and they both knew it. Shouldn't it be Tony's role to drop that bomb?

Steve looked hurt by the response but quickly tried to swallow that down, "No, Tony... I'm not giving you a dying speech, that would be much more thought out and quite frankly I think it'd be a tad more depressing and tear-filled." He sighed heavily and leaned his head back, was this not tear-filled? He could feel the sting behind his eyes and ache in his chest, were these dying words? No, he wasn't dying. "You know... It was pretty hard for me to say that out loud," he confessed softly, "The least you could do is... I don't know... never mind I guess, sorry I said it." He shook his head and scrunched up his face in an attempt to keep his emotions in. His mind was tired, his strength was hanging by a thread half the time, he was doing his best not to look fazed by Tony's reply but he was doing a poor job of it.

Tony felt a stab of pain in his chest. He really was impossible to talk to, wasn't he? It occurred to him then that _that_ was the confession he was kind of waiting for. For the past several months, with Steve Rogers as the resident shadow of Stark Tower, there had been an unspoken tension between him and Tony. There were the passing glances that had slowly evolved into lingering gazes, the late nights in the shop with unexpected company, and Tony figured that _this_ was the culmination of whatever that nagging feeling was in the back of his mind every time he left Steve alone with words unspoken. But what could he possibly do about it now? Now that they were both as good as dead, hanging on to a fictional shiny golden wire of hope. They had no chance at a future, and Tony was sure returning these feelings would cause more pain than pleasure. The question remained: did refusal to acknowledge his muddled and unsorted feelings make them any less real? Tony couldn't bring himself to say it, couldn't drag himself to that edge and make himself all that much more vulnerable in spite of everything that's happened.

"You're sorry you said that you liked me?" Tony tried to keep a level gaze with Steve, but even as he said the words he felt like an ass. He was only trying to protect himself, trying to save himself a little bit of hurt. Tony didn't know how he'd justify this to himself, how he could honestly believe that he'd get away with allowing Steve to put himself out there like that, alone, and let him fall. "Well you shouldn't be," _I don't want you to be_.

Steve smiled sadly, "I'm not sorry that I... that I put myself out there, I'm sorry it's put you in an awkward position." He bit the corner of his lip and dragged his teeth along it as he thought about what to say next. 'You shouldn't be sorry' wasn't a return of his feelings, he was painfully aware of it. A stronger, heavier weight rested on his chest and he had to swallow it down, past the physical pain, past the emotional stress and gave Tony the firmest smile he could muster though it quivered as felt his wall slip, a tear escaping down his cheek. "It's okay that you don't feel the same way-"

"NO!" Tony shouted at Steve, louder than he intended, with more force than he thought he was capable of. The tears were rolling down his cheeks again. He didn't understand it, he wasn't in pain, wasn't in fear of pain but still... "No, Steve. That's not what I meant to say," Tony choked back a sob –he couldn't do it, he couldn't let Steve suffer like that just to save himself a shred of... well, Tony supposed it was nothing anyway. "I like you too, Steve. I like you a lot, a lot more than I thought I was capable of." Tony took a long, shuddery breath. "I didn't recognize it for what it was at first, I was mad at you. I thought you were doing something. Pestering me. It was distracting, and I thought you were doing it on purpose but you weren't doing anything. You were being you, and that was distracting enough, because you were more interesting than my work. You were more interesting than anything else I had going on, even while planning the Expo..." Tony knew he'd started rambling, he'd opened that door and everything was pouring out, like a child's closet that was hurriedly stuffed with every toy in the room. His chest ached from the strain, and he wished that he could've said something more meaningful than 'I like you.'

"Really?" Steve laughed softly, he couldn't believe he'd been so down on himself that he'd actually missed that, that Tony had been trying to confess right back. "You don't know how happy I am to hear that," he inhaled shakily, attempting to even out his breathing. "We'll get out and when we do I'm going to hug you." It was the strongest sentiment he could say out loud, Steve had always been a more reserved kind of man, admitting to a hug was pretty extreme.

Tony smiled at that, "You have no idea what I'd give for a hug right now." He chuckled dryly, "I'd really like that." It hadn't been so hard, and if anything, Tony felt a little more resolve to hang in there.

"Yeah..." Steve closed his eyes with a smile, "Me too."

* * *

**Zafona's Notes:**

**That chapter wasn't so bad, was it? :3 See, we aren't always evil.**

**Thanks even more to you guys for sticking through with this story. I know why not a lot of people speak up to review this kind of thing, it's pretty twisted and what can you say other than 'oh god why'?**


	8. Chapter 8: Release

**Zafona's Notes:**

**I've noticed that a few people are having some troubles reading the story at this point but fear not, the torture ends today! Right now. Also, I told you it got nasty lol We are on chatper 8/10 chapters, almost at the end. I told you at the start of this story it was not a happy-fall-in-love kind of fic and I didn't lie. I'm glad that so many of you are sticking through with it though, I'm still surprised about that lol**

**Also no one has stolen our work, that is us. Mangerang is an account that matsu and I put up for both of us so we can both edit anything on the site and get credit for it at the same time etc. We have not been copied by anyone but ourselves so no worries guys :)**

**NOTE: Please don't spoil the ending in reviews, it ruins it for some people**

* * *

_Steve stopped outside of the workshop and took a deep breath. He could do this, no problem. None at all. So then why was he hesitating? The soldier pumped himself up briefly before marching into the lab with a broad smile on his face, "Tony!" He shouted across the room, not stopping as he headed straight for the inventor with bright, excited eyes. _

"_Gah!" Tony started at the captain's shout, fumbling his tools which resulted in a kind of awkward juggle before he managed to place them back on the table. "Jesus Steve! Don't sneak up on people like that!" he turned around to face his comrade and jumped again when he found Steve right there, "And don't rush in on them! What's gotten into you?"_

_Steve grinned and took his arm, not caring if there would be a protest, "Come on, I've got something I want to share with you."_

"_A surprise? For little ol' me?" Tony mocked sarcastically, "You shouldn't have." Tony stumbled after Steve, having never realized the stride of the other man's gait prior to having to keep up with it. "Whoa, whoa! Slow down there cowboy."_

_The soldier dragged his captive to the front doors of the building and outside, straight to a car where Happy was waiting to drive them. "Just shut up for a minute." Steve insisted, reaching into his pocket before getting into the car and slipping behind Tony. In a few moments a blindfold was wrapped around the man's head and tied firmly in place. "There." Steve smiled and ducked Tony's head, pushing him into the car. _

"_Oh come on," Tony bemoaned the blindfold, "what the heck is this? I feel like you're taking me to an execution."_

"_I promise it's nothing bad," The captain pat his friend's shoulder as Happy put the car in gear and accelerated. He looked out the window, holding back a giddy laugh as his excitement nearly dorked right out of him. _

"_Sure it's not."_

_Soon enough the car came to a stop and Steve helped the inventor out carefully, letting him stand alone for a moment as he gathered the package he'd packed into the car earlier, Steve adjusted the items in his arms quickly before taking Tony's hand in his and leading him along. He could feel his heart racing as his grip tightened a little on Tony, he could hardly believe they were holding hands, even if it was just a necessary gesture to make sure the billionaire didn't run into any lampposts or anything. "Almost there, Tony." He heard himself saying, partially wondering where he found the nerve to speak. _

_If anyone would have asked him, Tony would've easily said that his shortness of breath was due to having to keep up with an excited happy-go-lucky Captain America, and had absolutely 100% nothing to do with holding the hand of the most gorgeous man on the planet who had a pension for distracting even the billionaire genius from his most important work tasks. It was definitely the pace they were walking at, and nothing more. "Good, I was beginning to think we were going for a hike. Can I take this thing off yet?"_

"_No, hold on." Steve said quickly, "Just bear with me, okay?" The grass beneath their feet was soft and went on for quite a while, the sounds of children playing and general bustle was distant though still present. Steve stopped then and smiled, putting his things down and quickly setting it up before stepping behind Tony, "Okay, we're here and everything's ready."_

_While Steve had moved away from Tony, the inventor lifted the blindfold from his left eye to take just a peak. The sight of the captain kneeling on the blanket and smoothing out its wrinkles was a pleasant one, and Tony simply smirked and replaced the blindfold as it was. "You're lucky I'm a patient man, I could've had this thing off while you were doing whatever it was you were doing," Tony said in a mock huff._

_Steve smiled; Tony always had something to say. He reached up and untied the blindfold, letting it drop right after, walking around in front of the genius and tossing his arms up, "Ta da!"_

_Tony smirked to himself as the blindfold was taken away. He had to admit, Steve had done a bang up job of putting the picnic together; everything from the chequered red and white cloth to the wicker basket. Tony wondered if they'd even be visited by a crew of worker ants, it seemed so Hollywood. _

"_It's a picnic! I thought you were spending too much time inside so I made us a lunch," The soldier motioned toward the wicker basket sitting atop a plaid blanket laid out across the grass, his smile wide and eyes as bright as they'd ever been, "And I figured the park was a great place to relax, I found this spot yesterday, it's quiet and fairly out of the way. I made all the food myself, and Pepper got the basket and blanket for me. She said she'd join us but she was too busy so it's just us." Steve wanted to smack himself for rambling but he was too happy to really care. It was a gorgeous day and he'd managed to haul his crush out into the open with him, just the two of them. Nothing could have been better. _

"_So you made us lunch," Tony repeated with a chuckle. "We could've just as easily had lunch in the cafeteria." Tony knew it was more than that, he could see plain as day that this was so much more than that. "You know, you talk as fast as I do?" Tony smirked at Steve, the man having almost winded himself on the speed of his words alone. "Thank you Steve, it's beautiful." _

_Those words were enough to make his heart flutter; Steve blushed slightly and tried hard not to look away bashfully, "You're welcome, Tony."_

* * *

Tony woke up and found himself on the cold concrete floor. He didn't know when he'd arrived there, when or who released him from the table, or whether he'd been put there or fell there. He liked to assume that he'd at least have woken up if he had fallen, but he wasn't even certain of that anymore. Tony tried to move his limbs, but he found there was no strength in his arms to lift him. He laid there, still and shivering for an indiscernible length of time before he tried to move again. It was colder on the floor than it had been on the table. Tony raised himself up on shaking arms and managed to crawl the short distance to Steve.

His captain appeared to be unconscious, somehow able to sleep far more soundly than Tony had ever been able to himself. Tony envied that about Steve, the way his body was practically able to be self-sustaining. It wasn't entirely, and Tony could see the weight that Steve had lost. The prime specimen of human perfection was still nevertheless human. Steve required some sort of energy to continue rebuilding the muscle lost, and he just wasn't getting it. Steve was still bound to the rack, strapped in place while upright, his arms strung out like a martyr. Tony laid himself down at Steve's feet and curled in on himself. He couldn't stand, couldn't do a damn thing to free his comrade, even if he tried.

Even so, it felt good to be near Steve, after all of this time in the same room, but somehow very separate. He'd felt closer to Steve, and now he could actually touch him. Tony reached up and placed a hand on Steve's foot. He felt warm, warmer than the concrete beneath him, anyway. Tony could feel the slow and steady flow of blood through the thinner veins on the top of Steve's foot and it gave him comfort. Tony reached a tentative finger up to the marks on Steve's ankles, only partially visibly under the stiff bindings that kept him strapped down. It occurred to Tony that Steve's extended time hung from barbed wire had torn his ankles as well as his wrists and shoulders, held him, and allowed his injuries to heal over all crooked and wrong. If they ever got out, Steve would need these to be broken again and reset. It upset Tony deeply to think that someone else, a medical professional meant to help, would break all the same bones and joints over again. How would Steve react to that? It wasn't fair to him; if this ever ended it should end for good. It didn't occur to Tony to think of himself, that things wouldn't end for him either: Steve was his world. The only thing he had in this hostile, violent room. And nothing existed outside of this room, so what else was there? There was Steve: his protector, his comfort, and his will. He was body, mind, and soul; he was Tony's captain. Steve had been the only thing that didn't hurt, not a single scathing word to be had despite Tony's selfish actions and previous behaviour. Tony knew Steve would never hurt him. Tony knew that Steve loved him, even if he never said it. And Tony loved Steve too, more than anything.

Steve flinched when he felt the touch; his toes curled a moment though he couldn't quite move them the way he'd expected to. His heart pounded and skipped as he felt a wave of panic, something touching his foot, not good. And even though he was being touched his gaze snapped over to where Tony was usually strapped down, just a thing he'd grown accustomed to doing. The knowledge that Tony was there helped him find his footing, keep his mind at ease. But Tony wasn't there. "TONY!" He panicked first then looked down, his mind calming the moment he saw the lump at his feet, though not by much. "You're still here... How did you get down?" Steve asked softly, moving his foot a little into the touch. It was the most amazing feeling, kind contact, a simple little touch. It made his heart flutter and brought a smile to his face.

"I don't know," Tony rasped softly, engaging himself fully with the feel of Steve's skin and the sound of his voice. Tony felt more at ease next to Steve than he could ever remember feeling. The time that passed could've been mere seconds or full hours and it was all the same to him. Tony continued to move his hand over Steve's feet, gently past his wounded ankles, and as high up Steve's calf as he could reach while lying prone on the ground. A constant lazy, unconscious caress simply to remind them both that they were together, that human contact was not beyond them. It made Tony feel immensely better, like he was somehow more complete when he was touching Steve, touching just for the simple sake of touching. He didn't want to think about when this would stop, when he would be dragged away from Steve again.

Steve's eyes were closed as he silently enjoyed the feeling, a soft vibration in his throat as he quietly hummed songs he remembered from when he and his men marched along in the war. The combination of Tony's hand on him and the memories of back then calmed him more than he thought possible. It was nice, for the first time in what felt like forever, something was nice.

The sound of metal sliding past metal rung through the room as the door ground open and Trevor visited them once again. "It seems as though our time together is at an end," to a more focused mind it would be evident that this turn of events wasn't planned, and it clearly bothered the man. To the two weary and battered souls in the room, nothing at all was evident beyond the droning of his voice. "You two will live; I have no intentions of releasing you from your earthly burdens. No one has found you, nor is anyone even searching anymore. You've been alone in this with no one on the outside."

Tony was watching Trevor from the floor, observing the movement of his lips and hearing the sound of his voice, but never understanding his words. _He_ was here again, and that was all Tony really knew. He might try to separate them, he would hurt them again –hurt _Steve_ again. Tony clung to Steve's legs, sitting somewhat upright now, his weight supported by the rack that held his captain.

Steve tensed as a small wash of fear gripped him. It was the end? No one was coming... But they would live? He tried to wrap his mind around the words as his heart battered away at his ribcage, blood pumping hard and breathing quickly growing ragged. When had he gotten so scared? What was he afraid of? Death? Pain? No... Losing Tony. He was terrified of losing Tony and knowing that much frightened him further. "What are you going to do?" He asked, not missing the tightened grip on his leg.

"I'll be bringing you out of here and leaving you behind to live with your disfigurements and shame. People will look on you and wonder, your friends will see you as you were, and you will be nothing but a living memory, a mere shadow of your former selves, and you will live with their pity and sympathies, broken and alone."

The captain scrunched up his face in confusion, he didn't understand. Trevor's anger was quenched? He was happy with what he'd done and was going to leave it at that? It hadn't occurred to Steve that the lasting damage would be with them forever, that Tony's face wouldn't heal to the way it was and Steve had no idea that his mind would be forever fractured. To him, when you take a prisoner, you always do something with them, a means to an end or something... But to just let them go? He didn't understand and that bothered him.

A drone appeared behind Steve, releasing the manacles and lifting him off the rack. The soldier groaned and whined softly, his limbs aching, the pain shooting through him again. The second drone appeared and collected Tony off the floor, the billionaire giving a soft cry out of fear, his hand reaching for Steve though the contact was gone. They were carried out of the room and moved by a faceless transport vehicle, never really knowing that that was the last they would ever see of Trevor Hudson.

* * *

Pepper stood still as a statue, a watcher, and nothing more. She was helpless to do anything at all to help them, now more than before. She turned to Bruce, who had remained at her side in the intensive care waiting room at St. Mary's Hospital since they'd brought them in. "They've been in there for days," she commented in passing. The silence was eating at her, and as much as she wished to talk about anything other than the horrifying state of two of her closest friends.

Bruce's jaw was tense as he nodded curtly, angry eyes fixed on the doors with an intense glare. They wouldn't let him treat his friends; he knew them personally and therefore wasn't allowed to do anything for them. The fact that he possibly _could_ do something but wasn't allowed ate at him more than anything else. "They could be in there for days more... And even when they're healed they won't really be." He wasn't good with things like psychological damage but it was pretty damn obvious that Tony and Steve would not be the same men when they came back out.

She turned fully to face Bruce, her eyes welling over with tears, "We failed them, Bruce. We weren't able to do anything at all to save them. It's been weeks since their disappearance," Pepper forced herself to stop and breathe, to inhale deeply and steady herself. "Neither of them have spoken a word since they were found three days ago. The doctor's almost refused to treat Steve after he nearly killed two of the orderlies assigned to resetting his joints. If it weren't for the..." Pepper had to stop herself again, her eyes welling over with tears. She couldn't help but remember the sight of them, bruised and bloody and starved. The way Steve's arms were twisted and bent was purely unnatural, it almost looked alien. And Tony- Pepper couldn't hold back the sob that accompanied the memory, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Bruce grit his teeth but took a long and tired breath, exhaling as slowly as possible to ease himself back down. "I'm going to find that son of a bitch." He muttered warningly, "I'm going to find him and I'm going to kill him." He couldn't forget the frightened look on Tony's face, the horrified way he looked around and finally relaxed when he saw Steve again. Separating them wasn't quite possible most of the time, and the dependence that Tony now had on the captain was disturbing at best. Bruce couldn't stand to look at Tony's face but he forced himself to, to remind him of the way he'd failed, the way he hadn't managed to save either of his friends. What good was it to be a super hero when you couldn't do a single thing to help two goddamn people?

They had been discovered four days ago on a SHIELD satellite image sweep. Strictly speaking, the shadowing or "piggy-backing" of government and private surveillance equipment was purely illegal, but SHIELD had connections, and legality had never bothered director Fury one bit. After the first two weeks of fruitless search, Clint and Natasha had been forced to inform Fury of the problem –two SHILED agents couldn't exactly disappear for over two weeks without a valid reason. Fury had been more than willing to help –two of his top freakshow superheroes were MIA, and those were some irreplaceable arsenals.

Since their recovery, neither Tony nor Steve had strung together a coherent sentence, or even attempted communication. When the physicians attempted to separate them for treatment one might have imagined they were actually sending them to the gas chambers. Tony had broken out into screams of terror and what sounded like pure _agony_; it was as though their separation had caused him physical pain. Steve had been watchful, like a wounded animal backed into a corner. Tony's screams had a greater effect on Steve than the actual separation had, and the soldier fought like a man possessed to get back to Tony's side. The doctors tried sedation, which knocked Tony out in less than thirty seconds, and failed to even cause Steve to blink. If anything, robbing Tony of his consciousness only enraged Steve further –it had been nothing but a nightmare.

Through costly trial and error, the attending staff folded and kept Tony and Steve within sight of each other. The past three days in hospital had been nothing short of a living nightmare for everyone involved. Most of Tony's waking moments were spent in a state of heavy sedation, while Steve was nowhere near as fortunate. The super soldier was immune to all forms of tranquilizer and pain killers, not to mention his body held a natural resilience to force and breaking. His shoulders had healed over in their dislocation, stronger than they had been originally. It took several doctors and special-ordered machinery to break the captain's arms again. Resetting the joints just wasn't possible any other way.

The screams that were ripped from Steve were heart breaking at best. A man like Captain America brought down to sobs and tears, big blue eyes widened even further in fear as he whimpered and sniffled, trying to back away from the machines. He wanted to see Tony. He needed Tony, but he didn't know how to properly say it.

Clint joined Bruce and Pepper in the hospital cafeteria, "SHIELD transport is all set to move them back to Stark Tower, whenever you're ready." He looked from Bruce to Pepper. None of them were sure how ready they were. After the initial resetting of Steve's joints, he'd recovered quickly in these more favourable circumstances although the first avenger's mind seemed to be contained elsewhere. Despite his improved health, he would not speak with any of the doctors or his friends. Not about what happened or even about the weather.

"They found Steve at Tony's bedside this morning," Pepper informed Clint. "He wouldn't let go of Tony when the nurse asked him to return to his bed. I didn't see it myself, but in the hospital surveillance Steve almost looked... I don't know how to describe it, like someone was home again. Up here," Pepper tapped her finger to her temple. "Whatever they went through, they went through it together, and I don't think taking them away from each other at this time will do either of them any good. Steve seems to be doing better physically, so we'll move them back to Stark Tower where Tony's doctors can take a look at him."

Bruce felt like he'd been nearly as quiet as the two captives were being. He glanced up with tired eyes and nodded, "I heard about that... You think Steve's in his right head again? Or maybe it's a 'just with Tony' thing..." Bruce didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to consider how bad Tony had gotten, would be, how bad Steve had been. It was just a freaking mess and part of him wanted it to be over. But of course it wouldn't be over, not really. He wondered when it'd get to the point that they would grow tired of it and leave the two alone. It always happened, just a matter of time. When would they get tired of being worried or sympathetic?

Natasha, at Clint's side now, shook her head, "Cap's a tough one but he's also a real soft-hearted kind of man. I don't think he'll bounce back like he normally would, but he'll do it a helluva lot better than Tony will."

Bruce nodded quietly and buried his face in his hands. "This is a nightmare."

Pepper walked into the hospital room, where Steve was again out of his bed despite the doctors numerous requests that he remain there, and next to Tony, the injured billionaire's hand gently clasped in his. "Hi Steve, how are you feeling?" Pepper didn't expect an answer, but that didn't mean he didn't hear her. "We're going to be moving Tony back to Stark Tower."

Steve's body tensed and he turned a gaze on her, his distant look had faded remarkably in the past few hours and there was a glint of recognition in his eyes. He watched her carefully and exhaled slowly, not wanting to reacting but finding it more and more difficult. He looked back down at Tony, the idea of the man going to Stark Tower wasn't such a bad thing though he noticed a significant lack of himself in that statement. His mouth was dry and he wanted to speak but instead he just looked at her, mind still finding the words.

Pepper didn't miss the flash of distrust, of thinly veiled aggression, that lurked beneath Steve's blue eyes and immediately recognized her mistake. "Of course, we're taking you with. I meant to say, we're moving both of you, ok? We'll get Tony better help there, he'll be ok." Pepper wasn't sure what she should do, it had never been so hard to talk to Steve. He'd always been so friendly, so willing to engage in conversation and help out. It hurt her to see him like this, so broken and different, and Pepper feared to know what Tony would be like when they lightened the sedatives.

Steve looked back down with a satisfied sigh and nodded, the first motion of recognition he'd given anyone. "Okay." He said quietly, his voice a little harsh though he was trying to keep it soft as if it'd wake Tony from his drugged sleep. A long pause followed and he looked up with wet eyes then, his jaw quivering before he snapped his head back down, "I failed him... I couldn't save him..." Steve hunched forward and cried softly; trying to bite back the sobs though he had no will power to do so. "I...I..." his breathing was erratic as he fought to keep it steady though hyperventilation was not far off and it cut off his words entirely.

Bruce stepped into the doorway and had to step back and get out of the room again, he couldn't watch his captain break down like that. Not a chance in hell.

Pepper had immediately felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sound of Steve's voice. Well, the _sound_ of his voice wasn't in the least any kind of a relief. It was cracked and strained and burdened, but he was talking again. Relief was quickly replaced with dismay and concern as Pepper witnessed Steve descend into a fit of despair. "No Steve, no. You didn't fail anyone," Pepper stepped up to the soldier's side, gently placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and shushing him softly. "You don't need to say anything. We all know you tried your hardest," Pepper choked up at the thought –Steve felt like he'd failed, and he was a goddamn captive. She had been safe, she had the resources and the capital and the connections, and she could do nothing. Not a damn thing. "We tried, Steve, we tried and failed and while you were bound and hurt you still managed to do more for Tony than any of us combined. You didn't fail him." She didn't know what Steve did for Tony, she hadn't a clue what had really gone on, but she could only assume, and she could only try and comfort her friend.

Steve tried to wipe his eyes though he couldn't keep up with the wave of tears. His heart ached and throbbed heavily in his chest as he gasped out another soft cry, "I-I just... Everyone thought I _would_ but I just couldn't!" He lifted Tony's hand to his cheek and pressed their skin together, feeling the unconscious man's touch and trying his best not to break down completely. They were safe, that didn't mean they weren't capable of falling apart. If he did then Tony would. If he did then Tony would. Repetition.

Pepper tried not to flinch, tried not to give away any hint of just _how much_ that action had disturbed her. Physical contact seemed to be not just a big thing, but a _huge_ thing for Steve. It wasn't just being in the same room or within sight of one another, it was the physical contact that he craved, and that one broken little action, the desperate caress of an unconscious man, was almost enough to break her heart in two. "Oh Steve," she murmured.

"It was hard..." The captain whispered once he'd gotten a hold on himself, "I thought he wasn't going to make it... I thought he'd..." Eyes squeezed shut again, his face pulled tight in a pained grimace. He inhaled heavily and looked at Pepper with a scared gaze, "The doctors said he'd be okay? He's not going to... he won't die?"

Pepper put on a confident smile for Steve, "The doctor's said that he'd recover. They never said that it would be easy, but Tony's not going anywhere. Don't you worry, Steve." Pepper gave Steve a comforting pat on the shoulder. "You should rest."

The news calmed him but he shook his head, "No... I don't want to rest." He looked back down at Tony, his heart aching seeing the man unmoving, wishing Tony would just open his eye or smile or maybe even breathe heavier so he could see movement. Tony wasn't dead and the doctors said he would be okay eventually, but Steve couldn't shake the fear of never seeing the other man mobile again, never hearing him laugh or say his name. "I'm good right here, please don't make me go." He whispered, not looking at Pepper again, too focused on watching the tiniest way Tony's chest rose and fell.

Pepper nodded, "I won't make you go anywhere, Steve." Pepper gave the man a comforting hug, just a quick squeeze around the shoulders. "But if the plane's going down, you need to take care of yourself first." She doubted that anything she said meant much to the tired and weary soldier, but she could try.

"Thank you," Steve said softly, leaning into the hug like it he'd never get another one in his entire life, looking a little sad when she pulled away. "I'll be alright."

* * *

The ride back to Stark Tower was a quiet one. Tony was prepared for transport, and wasn't woken once throughout. Pepper had some concerns over his general health, the malnutrition and infection being the worst. The Stark private doctors that had been stationed on the private jet for transport assured her that his chances of recovery were much greater with them than the general public. Of course she knew that, but it did little to stop her worrying.

Steve had watched the doctors carefully as they started to move the man he'd grown so attached to. Tony had become everything to him, everything he thought about and wanted. It was simple, he loved Tony and would do anything for him, lay on a wire for him, bleed out for him, keep him safe. Steve didn't want these men touching his friend, his lifeline, he was there and able to defend and God knew he would if he had to. Regardless of how sore his arms still were from being broken again, a horrifying experience to be sure, he'd still fight them off. But so far it didn't seem he had to.

Bruce stood next to Clint and Natasha with a furrowed brow as he watched the small scene, "I don't like the way Steve's watching all of this." He muttered softly.

"Cap's grown really defensive of Tony, it'll pass once he's had more time to recover from being strung up for weeks on end." Natasha spoke just as quietly, hoping Steve's ears weren't burning for their voices.

"I'm not so sure," Clint muttered. He had his reservations when it came to whole-heartedly believing. He wasn't a religious man, and he wasn't a gambling man. He was an agent, a specialized soldier, really. He acted: he made the difference. Simply hoping for the best, trying to confirm his wishes by speaking them aloud and claiming them to be true, wouldn't do more damage than good.

The captain didn't hear them though he did glance over to see where they were at. He didn't know if he should thank them for looking or be pissed that they had taken so long. He felt a cold grip of fear in his gut knowing that Trevor was still out there, that they hadn't escaped or been rescued with a violent entrance. They had been _let go_. Nothing happened to the man for everything he'd done, he was still out there and it ate away at his mind every time he closed his eyes he wondered when the next visit would be. Steve's jaw trembled again and he hurriedly followed the doctors and Tony, insisting in silence that he remain by Tony's side. No one could really move him even if they hadn't wanted him to sit so closely.

In order to complete a full assessment of Tony's condition, his doctors insisted on a full elimination of all sedatives in his system. His body, they claimed, had already had four days of natural healing, as well as the additional attention from trained medical professionals. In order to put together a recovery plan, they needed Tony awake and responsive. And so the waiting game began.

Concerned blue eyes watched for every passing second, the only time they closed was when he had to blink. Steve refused to sleep, to make sure that Tony was safe he wouldn't sleep. Proper rest had eluded him quite a bit though after eating more his body felt a ton better. His muscles were rebuilding themselves just eating the nutrients necessary, his strength returning quickly the more he took care of himself. But he couldn't handle sleep, not yet. Steve gently stroked Tony's hand the entire time he was left waiting, a small way he could insist that he was there even though the other man wasn't conscious. And even though he tried he couldn't stay awake one hundred percent of the time. Sleep snuck up on him every once in a while, his head drooped in the ever fleeting slumber.

Bruce watched for a moment, his fingers tapping along his jaw pensively. "Yep." He said through clenched teeth. "We're still going to find him." He took his phone out and walked away, the number for Nick Fury quietly ringing on the other end.

* * *

It was quarter after two in the stillness of the night before Tony's eyes opened again. The edge of the sedatives eased his waking; preventing what would otherwise have been a jarring awakening. Tony flinched unconsciously, his muscles tensing and releasing in a sort of 'checks and balances' assessment. His damaged left eye had been an immediate concern for his previous attendant, and had been thoroughly cleansed and picked apart. Immediate reparative surgery had corrected Tony's melted tear duct to allow for the natural cleansing of the eye while it remained under wraps. His right eye lid lifted slowly as his vacant brown eye attempted to focus on his surroundings.

Everything hurt, not as bad as it had before, but it was still there. The aching soreness that accompanied days on end of restraint in the same position, the weakness of limbs from starvation... it all weighed on him like a second skin. But his physical pain was the least of his concerns. Tony's wandering mind focused in with startling intensity, a pinpoint of certainty on one sharp need: Steve. Tony whined meekly, a sort of hissing whimper that escaped his parched lips, as he desperately searched his limited field of vision for his captain.

Steve's eyes shot open, he'd fallen asleep again. "Tony," He whispered and squeezed the genius' hand gently, shuffling just a little closer though he was already as close as he could get. "I'm here, I'm right here." He reached over with his free hand and stroked the brown hair away from Tony's face, "I've got you, you're okay." He didn't know what he was saying; all he knew was that it was true. Tony was alright, he wasn't dying and Steve was right there. He had him.

Tony immediately relaxed, his body sagging into the mattress beneath him. He moved his hand slowly, feeling the weight of Steve's over his own. Tony tentatively flexed his fingers, briefly entwining them with Steve's and relaxing them again. It felt good, to feel Steve near, to touch him and feel his warmth. Tony tried to lift himself up, to shimmy closer to the soldier beside him.

Steve gently moved Tony closer and held him as tightly as he dared, both of them were sore, both of them were tired and in lasting pain but it didn't matter as long as they could be next to one another. The captain exhaled softly and rested his head against Tony's, giving his body a light squeeze. "We're okay." He said again with a subtle laugh though it faded quickly, "I'm so sorry." Steve buried his face into the freshly washed brown hair and inhaled the smell, reminding himself that they were clean and safe. "I tried... I wish I could have saved you, Tony."

Tony reached his arms up around Steve, and though his grip was weak, he held on like it would keep the hounds of hell at bay. Finally, finally they were in one another's arms. They had spent weeks together, enduring the pain and the torment, the humiliation and the shame. The cold pricks of hate and solitude, all the while wishing more, day by day, that they could be close to one another. That they might feel familiar warmth, which they could trust that someone would understand, that someone knew what they had lived through. No one else would ever understand, and if they couldn't understand, they could never really care. Tony buried his face in Steve's strong chest, heaving slightly with effort. "You will," Tony whispered, a sound so soft it was barely audible. It was difficult to speak so soon, when he felt no inclination to do so. But Steve needed to know, Steve needed to be assured that he hadn't failed. "We'll be ok." Steve had said so, and here they were at Stark Tower, the worst was over.

Steve nodded and held Tony as closely as possible, even though his arms were tired and sore he held on. "I will never leave you." He rasped past the lump in his throat. Part of him wanted to cry but the rest of him held up the wall, he had to be strong for Tony. Tony was being strong for him; he had to strong for Tony. He kept telling himself that. Repetition. "We'll be okay." Steve nodded again, "We'll be okay."

They exchanged few words after that, if any at all. There was an unspoken understanding that there was nothing left to say, and whatever it was they needed to communicate to one another, they could do through gentle touches. They _had_ to do through gentles touches. So long as Tony was conscious, he was moving. They were small, slow movements –tracing circular patterns on Steve's arm or back with the flat of his hand or just the pad of his thumb. A gentle nuzzle to close some unseen distance between them. Before Tony drifted to sleep, he leaned up, straining slightly at the effort, and placed a soft kiss to Steve's jaw.

Steve returned it immediately; kissing Tony's forehead sweetly and nuzzling right back, never letting an affectionate touch go without something equivalent. He cradled the damaged genius in his arms and massaged his limbs to make sure everything was working right and that they'd never be stiff when he woke. He'd grown accustomed to not sleeping much though he'd definitely pass out from time to time, Tony still firmly wrapped in his grip, not going anywhere.


	9. Chapter 9: Fallout

**Zafona's Notes:**

**I know, I know, I add a lot of notes. I have much to say. So 9/10 chapters here. You're all going to be wondering how we wrap this up in one chapter, well you'll find out shortly. In the meantime, I hope you're all still along for the ride because it's almost done, almost there guys. We got this.**

* * *

Steve spent all of his time with Tony; he didn't wander from his side, not once. He felt a certain responsibility, he had to keep the billionaire safe, at all costs he had to keep Tony safe. But more importantly than that, he had to keep him company. Steve needed to be around Tony as much as Tony needed to be around his captain, an anxiety rose in him every time he couldn't see the genius, every time he couldn't hear him. It was stifling but comforting and Steve had grown accustomed to it, had adapted to need it, to needing Tony in every way possible. As much as he wanted things to go back to how they were, he didn't think he could bear it. No, he much preferred sitting at Tony's side, his arm around the other man's slender shoulders and being silent. They didn't feel the need to speak.

Though it was starting to make Bruce and the others feel more than a little uncomfortable. He'd walked into the room to see how they were doing and the most he got was a softly spoken hello from Steve and a blank look from Tony. While the billionaire proceeded to look away again Steve's gaze never left him, watching cautiously until the potential threat had vacated the room. Bruce was used to being looked at that way but it was aggravating when the reasoning behind the stare had nothing to do with his condition. He wanted to say 'I'm not going to do anything to you' but really that wouldn't help much of anything either.

"We need to get them outside for a while." Bruce finally said to Pepper, seeing as how the master assassins had other things to do (namely locating that Hudson son of a bitch), they were alone together again. "It's been a few weeks and they're both physically healthy aside from Tony's lingering malnourishment. They need an activity or something, just to get them outside and doing more than sitting together in creepy silence." He also wanted to point out the way they held on and clung to one another but decided against it. He was pretty sure she'd already noticed it.

Pepper nodded solemnly, "I agree. But I don't want to push them, you know?" Pepper knew better than that. She could see that they needed help, that a push was necessary; but in all honesty she'd become just a little too frightened to interfere directly. Steve wasn't just watchful, he was downright territorial. Pepper felt like a scavenger trying to pick off a sick cub in the sights of a great lion whenever she neared Tony, like Steve could strike without warning at any moment. He didn't trust her –didn't trust anyone with Tony. "Never mind, you're absolutely right. I remember Steve used to like old fashioned dates, maybe if we can't separate them, we can normalize them. We'll send them out for a picnic or something."

Bruce nodded, "Good idea." He liked that she'd changed her mind so fast, that he didn't have to point out the little things that were seriously starting to worry him. If they let the two fall too far into a rut of what they believed was normal it'd be harder to get them out of it. Part of him felt like they might already be too late.

Getting Steve to accept leaving the premises, much less _going outside,_ required nothing less than trickery. Pepper had absolutely insisted that sunlight was required for Tony to heal better, that since his biorhythms had been so disturbed it was still having negative ramifications on the man's health, and the quickest, easiest way to correct this was exposure to natural sunlight. Not to mention Steve would appear more like his old self if he did something with Tony that they had done together before. A picnic, Pepper had said, would be perfect.

Steve stood pensively, his eyes narrowed in thought as his mind wandered over the idea. It wasn't impossible and she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. He really had no idea how to help more and he _really_ wanted to. "Okay," he nodded after a long pause of thinking and mulling it over. "I think you're right, a picnic would be good."

Pepper began making all the arrangements before Steve could fully change his mind. She tried as hard as she could to remember what Steve had done, to try and replicate that memory for them both. "Alright," Pepper said cheerfully while entering Steve and Tony's room. She smiled at Steve knowingly, "I've made all of the appropriate arrangements, as we discussed. Now," Pepper strode across the room, digging a handkerchief out from her pocket as she came up behind Tony. "Can you guess where we're going, Tony?" Pepper asked sweetly as she gently pulled the cloth across Tony's eyes.

Tony hadn't been paying attention, not to Pepper and not to the world around him. Steve was in the room, Steve was next to him. He hadn't had a reason to pay attention to much anything else since returning to the tower. And then he was blind. In mere seconds, every memory came flooding back like a video on fast forward. Blindness, he hated blindness, he hated not seeing what was coming, not knowing what was next and then pain. God, his eye! It burned! It wouldn't stop burning and it was swelling, the liquids expanding, set to burst... Blindness, pain, and _drowning_. Tony couldn't take it, his temporary, artificial loss of sight was too much to bear, and he screamed. His throat strained at the effort as he cried out with terrified agony at the flood of memories. His eyes welled up with tears and his body began to tremble, sending him off the edge with a fit of shakes.

Steve ripped the blindfold away and snapped a glare on Pepper as his arms unconsciously pulled Tony closer, into a tight and comforting hug. "Why would you do that?" He shouted viciously, "He hates being blindfolded, are you trying to give him a heart attack?" Steve quickly went to shushing Tony's sobs and whimpering, "It's okay," he whispered, gently rocking the other's body and rubbing his back soothingly, "Shh, Tony it's okay, I've got you, I'm right here." He glared over at Pepper again before looking back to his task.

"I'm so sorry!" Pepper backed away quickly. "I didn't know!" She honestly didn't, they hadn't shared a shred of details about what had befallen them. "I-it's alright," Pepper stuttered nervously, keeping her eyes locked with Steve, trying to show with every expression and body language he knew that she meant them no harm. "I'd never do anything to hurt Tony, I promise it won't happen again," she paused, hopeful, "We should get moving from this room, Tony probably wouldn't like to stay in any one room for too long, especially after that."

The soldier had half a mind to call it off but Tony still needed the sunlight. He cupped Tony's cheek and lifted his head so he could see him; Steve never sat in Tony's blind spot, ever. "Hey, we're going to get going, alright? I'm with you, I'll always be with you, don't be scared Tony."

Tony took another shaky breath, his hands unconsciously clutching the front of Steve's shirt. His one brown eye searched Steve's for reassurance, finding his grounding there. Tony wiped the tears from his eyes without a word and nodded his understanding. He preferred not to talk in front of others whenever possible, his words were known to get him in trouble in the past, and trouble was the last thing he wanted. To Steve he would speak, often only in whispers, but lately there were thoughts in his head, awful things that he couldn't bring himself to talk about with Steve. Tony shook the thoughts from his head and willed his into silence. He didn't want to think anymore.

It had been a difficult task, one that almost failed straight out of the gate, but Pepper was finally able to drop Steve and Tony off in the park. It was near where Happy had left them almost a year ago, when Steve had been so very excited to get out of the tower, to get out into a more natural setting again. It had been so different, the ride in filled with nothing but silence where there should've been awkward conversation, shy advances, and an over-talkative narcissist. In the void there was a protector and his external heart, a fragile soul and his external strength. Tony sat nearly in Steve's lap, the soldier's arms firmly enveloping his smaller frame and holding him close.

"You two have fun," Pepper was using her best cheery voice, like nothing was wrong, like this wasn't a twisted reflection of what it should have been. "Happy will be back here to pick you guys up in three hours. If you need anything sooner, we all have phones and you can just give us a call, and we'll come and get you."

Tony made direct eye contact with Pepper then, for the first time in the months after their recovery, "'_You'll get us_'?" The words came out cold and accusing, hurt and distrustful. It wasn't a question he wanted an answer to, it wasn't even a conversation he wanted to have, and he turned his face away from her then, back toward Steve's embrace.

The captain ran a hand through Tony's hair, his face gentle and kind for the moments he was looking at Tony. When he lifted his gaze toward her it was harsh, distant and even accusing. Steve hadn't been able to save Tony, hadn't been able to rescue him, but Pepper and the others hadn't either. And they were in a more likely position to be able to do so. "I hope it won't take too long if something does happen." He said not nearly as coldly as Tony had but the meaning behind his words were enough.

Pepper didn't know what to say, didn't know what she _could _say. It hurt to hear it from them, but she supposed everyone was thinking it. She knew that they had failed them, and she knew that _they knew_ that they had failed them. She tried to ignore it, "We'll see you later." Pepper nodded and smiled, keeping up a strong face and closed the door behind her. Once she was out of their sight she couldn't help but cry. She'd tried so hard, she'd called in every favour she could from every contact Stark Industries had. She worked tirelessly with the media and the public to save face and when she wasn't doing that, she was trying to help SHIELD and Bruce in finding them. She'd poured her heart and soul into that search, had worried herself sick over their safety, and blamed herself for everything that happened to them. She hadn't expected them to blame her as much as she blamed herself, but she supposed it was only right. "Let's get going, Happy," she whispered quietly, watching her wounded friends through tinted windows as they drove away.

Steve and Tony walked in silence up the path they'd followed last time. Tony couldn't say he recognized it, he hadn't seen it last time. It was fall now, and the trees were shedding their leaves. The ground was covered in them; orange, red, and brown. The dead leaves crunched beneath their feet as they tread down the path to their destination. Tony could remember the look in Steve's eye, like a fleeting glimpse, bright blue and sparkling, a fitting match to his wide smile. But that was another time. Tony looked up to Steve's face, the shallow hue of his skin and the cold glint of blue in his eyes were like a macabre reflection of their last picnic. Just like their surroundings, where previously the life of spring turning to summer had the grass grown green and lush with vibrant greens decorating the tree tops had turned to fall, where all the life was pulled back inside and the furthest reaches of limbs of trees and blades of grass were allowed to wither and die to preserve their life so too had Tony and Steve withered.

Tony hardly touched the food prepared for them, picking it apart and taking little. He looked back to Steve, and wanted to say something. He didn't know what –he had nothing to say. There's nothing that either of them _could_ say that would make any of this better, or make any of this make sense. Tony couldn't help but think. It was what he was good at, what he had always been good at. But lately, he just wanted to turn it off and shut out the world. Thinking meant confrontation, it meant considering what had happened to them back in that factory, and what awaited them. Tony was well aware that they didn't talk about it, and that wasn't because there was nothing to talk about. He tried to convince himself that there was nothing to talk about, like he had thought in the first few weeks back on the outside. But he knew better: he knew that their so-called friends hadn't been able to do a damn thing to find them. All the efforts of SHIELD's best and Tony's own tech couldn't locate them, and Tony found that to be just a bit of a stretch. Or maybe Trevor was just that good; maybe the man who was still alive out there would come back. There was no conclusion, there was no finale. No one broke down that door to save the day, and no one tore free of their bindings and fought their way out from the inside. No information was extracted under the promise of pain and death. It was what it was, simply because it had happened, and Tony didn't want to deal with that.

Tony left the remains of his meal and snuggled up close to Steve, moving his arms to entwine them with Steve's own and began to gently caress his arm. It was habit by now, an unconscious movement. It had brought him comfort before just as much as it did now. Hours could pass and it wouldn't matter if they were in the tower or in the park. Tony just waited for the hours to pass.

Steve closed his eyes and inhaled the autumn breeze, letting Tony touch him and just as unconsciously returning it. He stared out across the field that they had the first time, remembering Tony's face, the bright look in his eyes and the way he'd eaten the home made meal. Steve had never made lunch like that for anyone before Tony; he hadn't ever poured his heart into food like he had that time. The food they picked at quietly that day wasn't the same, like a pale imitation. It lacked everything Steve remembered the picnic was supposed to hold, the beauty of the world around them, people's laughter as they came undone in the warming sunlight. Not the slow curl of life as winter rolled down on them, people clutching their jackets closed as they fought against the cooling wind. It wasn't cold yet but it was getting there.

Tony had been so vibrant and lively, and so had he. The world had been prettier. But then they were taken away from it and when they returned everything looked different, everything felt like it was gone. Again. It was like he'd woken from the ice all over again, the beauty he remembered the world to be had somehow grown old and bastardized, dirtied and he didn't belong. And again he woke to faces he didn't trust and he'd lost the love of his life. Tony was broken and Steve had no means to fix him, no way of getting him back on his feet. Because Steve was broken. He could feel it, he'd woken up again from a nightmare and this time he hadn't stayed the same man, he was different and clouded and violent. He felt like a stranger in his own skin, like he was fighting for all the wrong reasons and no matter what he did it didn't help anything.

The sun disappeared behind a drifting cast of cloud for only a moment, Steve felt the heave of his chest, a heavy weight on his heart as his wall broke down, and he cried in front of Tony. His heart, in pieces, poured from his chest and he couldn't stop the thunderous pounding in his ears; couldn't stop the wheezing sobs, and by no means could he control his breathing as it rapidly escalated. It hurt, and the pain was only worsened with the knowledge that he was supposed to be taking care of Tony but he just couldn't do it, couldn't bring himself around to be strong again and calm himself.

Tony was startled by Steve's outburst, a momentary seizure of panic left him paralyzed. His mind tried to piece it all together, stumbling through the fear and unknowns. A whirr of memories returned to him in a flash, Steve's anguished shouts of pain as he was cut apart, hung like an animal... Tony remembered the beatings and the starvation, and felt his eye start to burn. As though he were living it all again, he could smell the burning flesh, hear the sizzle of his skin against the iron mask. Tony gasped through the tears –he hated the flashbacks. He grabbed onto Steve, surmising that the man was suffering from demons of his own, memories that would haunt him until the end of days. "Steve," Tony cried, holding on to his captain as best he could, "be strong." Tony pleaded for the impossibly unfair. He pried Steve's clutched hands from the man's face and slid into his lap, wrapping his arms around him in a hug and stayed nestled there until the sobs subsided.

Steve buried his face against Tony and held on tightly, the desperate touch of a man trying to hold himself together and failing. He'd tried to so hard to hold it all in and now his dam was breaking in two and he couldn't stop it. Tony was there with him, Tony was always there with him and that was a comfort but it didn't slow his breathing or calm his heart for a very long time. The hours slipped by and they remained curled up against one another, Steve never let go and never lifted his head. After what felt like a lifetime he shifted his position though he didn't relax any. "I'm sorry," he rasped into the soaked shirt he'd been crying into. "I'll be stronger."His arms tightened around the slighter frame, he could feel the weight of his promise and hoped it would break the new wall he was trying to piece together.


	10. Chapter 10: Into The Nothing

_Send away for a perfect world,_

_One not simply, so absurd_

_In these times of doing what you're told, _

_Keep these feelings, no one knows_

_Whatever happened to the young man's heart,_

_Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart_

_And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45,_

_I'm swimming through the ashes of another life_

_There's no real reason to accept the way things have changed_

_Staring down the barrel of a .45_

"I just can't understand it," Pepper sniffled again, wiping away the brim of tears from her eye with a Kleenex. She stood with few others, all dressed in black in the drizzling rain. Not many people still counted themselves as friends of Tony Stark, and fewer cared to pay their condolences to the man. "Why did any of this have to happen." It had been a year since Tony and Steve were returned to them, and in that time the two men had closed themselves off from the world. Neither returned to their former roles in the Avengers Initiative, and the team soon fell apart without them.

Bruce stood in silence for a long moment after she'd spoken, his heart ached and his head felt stupidly heavy on his shoulders. Black was never a colour he liked to wear because it reminded him of exactly this, standing with all of the others in their dark attire in mourning. Mourning. He hated the word. He wished he could get angry then but the rage didn't even fizzle inside him, instead tears stung at his eyes as he struggled to keep them back. He wished he'd had an answer for Pepper, wished he'd had an answer to any of it. He could wish all he wanted but it'd never change a damn thing.

After a longer period without words, the silence filled with more silence and possibly the sound of someone crying distantly. "We found him." Bruce finally said, "Trevor Hudson, we found him..." He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his face to stop the emotions from making him waver. "His drones didn't stand a chance against the other guy... He didn't... I don't know what happened, he didn't seem like a man in his right mind, how could he psychologically tortured to this point?"

Pepper supposed that she should take some solace in that, but she felt nothing. Her face was almost stoic in light of the news, "It's too little too late now," she murmured coldly. What good was the man dead now that Tony was already gone, had already taken his own life?

Bruce sighed and put the glasses back on his face, "Regardless... he's dead. Clint and Natasha had cornered him, pinned him down but I just couldn't let him live..." He would have gone into detail about how he'd crushed the man's body like a toothpaste tube, starting from his feet, but decided that they weren't in the right place for that, even though part of him thought Tony might have wanted to hear it. Assuming he could hear at all, a philosophical question to be sure.

Tony had suffered mental damages on top of the psychological trauma. His focus never returned to what it used to be, and neither did his drive. He suffered from frequent nightmares, and commonly complained of a ringing in his ears. He'd tried once to return to work, to lose himself in the technological world of mechanics and ones and zeros, and it had ended in failure. He couldn't think and he couldn't problem solve, answers that would've been plain as day required him to look back at previous projects to see what he had done, and he was further frustrated by the fact that he didn't understand why he'd done it.

Following his failed return to work, Tony had soon after lost his holdings in Stark Industries. These things had happened in the past, and every time Tony was able to work his way back in, or if need be, he would've been able to build a new company up from the ground under 'Stark Limited' or 'Stark Co.' But that was a different Tony Stark, an intelligent, tenacious business man. Tony lacked the flare, lacked the charisma and lacked the genius required to continue with his career.

And then they were here, what few people Tony hadn't managed to turn away or turn against him now stood gathered around his open grave, mourning the loss of a truly great man. In the month prior to his passing Tony had been forced into psychiatric care, a psychiatrist was hired to live in Stark Tower and meet with him daily. He'd been writing in a journal, a recommended exercise to help deal with the insomniac inducing night terrors. There was no doubt that those gathered here wondered what Tony's last entry might contain, or what his last words had been to Steve. Steve, the man he'd left behind in the world of the living, who he'd promised he'd never quit, was now left alone to fall to pieces.

Steve stood in complete silence all the way through to the end of the funeral, his face turned down and a constant stream of tears freshly wetting his cheeks. He didn't sob or make a sound, his shoulders didn't tremble and his eyes didn't shift their focus from Tony's coffin. The dirt had been placed over top the hole, burying the love of his life, forever.

He'd never see those big brown eyes again; hear the tired excuses of a man who just wanted to finish his work. He'd never see that excited look as an idea came to a brilliant mind, the need to do something right now. He'd never again feel the warm touch, never see him _move_ again.

He'd never see those big brown eyes again.

Steve finally moved, his stiff body becoming like a wash of motion as he crumpled to his knees, hands digging into the dirt, just a little. "You stupid..." he whispered, the tears dripping down off his nose and into the soil. He wished he was in a fairy tale and not a nightmare, that there'd be some kind of magic in his anguish and bring his lifeline back to him. "I'm still here," His voice sounded like he'd eaten shards of glass moments before speaking, "I'm still here, Tony. I never gave up... I cried and I showed emotion but I never gave up." Steve slammed a fist into the dirt.

"_You can't let go, alright?"_

_An unsteady stare._

"_Promise me, Tony."_

"_I won't if you won't."_

"We had a deal, goddamn it!" He shouted and hit the ground again, wishing he could wake the dead. "You promised me!"

"_Tony?" Steve stood in the doorway of Tony's room in a slight panic, he'd woken up on the couch and Tony had vanished from his lap, he hadn't even woken._

_The strange way Tony moved was already scaring him. _

"_Tony? What did you-" Steve's eyes widened when he saw the gun in the other man's hand. Tony didn't even seem to hear him as he screamed for him to stop._

"You quit! You... You..." Steve gasped for breath as his forehead touched the grave soil, an anguished scream shattering the remainder of silence and breaking down into quiet sobs.

"I loved you." He squeaked pathetically, lifting his head though it hurt too much to even bother. "I should have said it instead..." Steve's hand extended and touched the grave top tenderly, "I should have said anything instead of nothing... Tony... I am so, so very sorry..." His words were slow, just falling out of his mouth as they came to mind. He had no time left to say anything now, it was all far too late. He was too late. His shoulders slumped again as he hardly had the energy to pay attention to the world. He didn't flinch when he heard steps behind him, recognizing and knowing they were Bruce's just by chance, he didn't know how, possibly because he'd always have that sense in his head.

"You still can say something, Steve." The man said quietly, "Tony... he made his choice, it's not a fault to be put on anyone so don't hurt yourself."

Steve shook his head, "I was the one he needed, I was the one that he trusted and I should have been the one to save him."

"You can't expect to be able to save everyone, Cap." Natasha approached just as silently, her face as stone cold as she could make it though it was clear she was fighting back tears of her own. "We couldn't..."

Clint draped his arm around her back, a comforting hand on her shoulder pulling her just a little closer. Her hatred of public displays of affection be damned, she needed the support. "There's nothing more that could've been done, Steve. You did everything you could and then some."

Steve slowly pulled himself from the dirt and turned a heart broken gaze at the people he once knew as his team, their expressions filled with more worry than he'd ever wanted aimed his way. They were scared he'd do the same, frightened that they'd lose two in this tragedy. And they should be. He was falling apart, a mess of what he used to be and now he'd just lost the only anchor he'd had. He needed to talk, needed to tell them what happened and get over it so he didn't follow Tony into oblivion.

"_I'll never leave you."_

"_I'm with you, I'll always be with you, don't be scared Tony."_

But somehow he just couldn't find the words to say a single thing.

* * *

**Zafona's Notes:**

**I am sorry to do this to you guys and I was so sad to write it too. Matsu's idea, I assure you, though I'm the one who wrote most things that had to do with Steve in this chapter so for that I apologize. And this was one of those quiet stories that sort of fades off at the end, was never meant to have the giant climactic scene, just to drift away quietly.**

**So that's it for this story. I really appreciate all the support and reviews and would love, even if you're reading this forever after we posted it, to get your feedback on it. I look forward to getting your reactions to the ending, please let us know how we did :)**


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